The Perish
by Expanse8801
Summary: In the fallout of Commander Shepard and the crew of Normandy's journey through the Omega Four relay, they return to discover that a new and vicious enemies holds the galaxy hostage. Throughout the chaos that has erupted, there may be one man who may hold the key in taking back the galaxy before everything is rendered extinct.
1. One

**The Perish**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Dead Space _nor the _Mass Effect _franchises.

**Content warning: **rated M for strong language and intense violence.

* * *

**A/N: **_For future references, in regards to this fic, I've conjoined the Dead Space and Mass Effect universe. In reference to this story, both universes coexists as one and are occurring at the same time. And now... on with the fic!_

* * *

**One :::**

** Them**

Systems Alliance Admiral Anderson rubs at his brow and lets out a long yawn. For too long, he's been cooped up in his office on the Citadel, flowing through reports flooding in from all around Human dominate space. Reports regarding Human colonies vanishing off the face of the star maps—mainly the inhabitants themselves. There have been many leads trialing back to the Terminus System colonies, which, Anderson admits, isn't really a surprise.

He remembers, a few months back that a ghost of a man walked into his office asking for such aid in the matter. A man Anderson thought to have perished along with his ship. But there he was—standing right before his eyes and talking to him as if nothing had happened at all. Of course, there was something different about this man, Commander Shepard. He had a permanent gaze, almost eerie stare in his eye. Like he had lost his soul. He probably did, after learning who the Commander was now running with; operatives of Cerberus.

Anderson couldn't believe the Commander would divulge so low. Cerberus is and always will be an eyesore to the rest of the galaxy regarding Humanity as a whole. The name itself makes the other races jumpy, knowing that anyone in the organization holds a somewhat distrust of aliens or anything that isn't Human at all. Which was Anderson's reasons in turning Commander Shepard down, he couldn't be seen aiding an operative of that zealot organization—his reputation of show casting Humanity's best weighed upon it. Councilmen Udina wasn't much of a good influence for Humanity, the man could play some hard political ball, but as an individual, he came off too heated and had the stubborn of a child.

Humanity needs leaders who can represent the best and brightest, not stiff bags and certainly not terrorist.

_ Terrorist… humf. _Anderson laughs at his own thoughts, especially association that word with Commander Shepard. Of course, when he turned a deaf ear to the Commander's help in the colony disappearances, he never knew what the Commander would do next. And to his almost surprise, the Commander pulled a Houdini in the Terminus Systems, slightly easing the corruption and mysteries surrounding the colonies. He knows, in his heart, that even though Shepard's… _temporarily_ with Cerberus, that the Commander has some control of what he's doing, or _was._

It's been weeks since Anderson had a fixed on the Commander's waypoints around the galaxy. But, for some reason, the Commander and his vessel vanished totally in a star system in the Terminus Systems. Knowing Shepard, he'll be back soon, storming through the door of his office like any other given day.

Breaking the stiff silence trapped in his office, the door does slides open, allowing the flooding sounds of the hall to trial in. Following a rush of the cool outside air, a human Council Embassy guard enters Anderson's domain but doesn't proceed three paces from the door.

"I apologize for the uninvited entry, Admiral," the guardsman speaks neutrally.

"No need to," Anderson replies scratching the fatigue out of his eyes. "What's so important that the Council couldn't message me themselves?"

The guard chocks on his words before uttering, "I'm sorry sir, but I've been explicitly notified to not disclose this information aloud…"

Anderson sighs, momentarily shielding his eyes, _perfect…_

"Alright son, it's alright, I know the drill," Anderson rises up from his chair feeling the numbness of his legs tingling up to his thighs. He straightens his uniform upon standing and meets the young guard's eyes, "I follow you, right?"

Following the guard down the sleek halls of the embassy section of the citadel, Anderson can't prevent his mind from wondering what the hell this is all about. Clearly this is an Alliance only matter, of which the other races may already know about somehow, but he plays along with it anyway.

The guard leads Anderson to a door near the end of the Human section of the Embassy, exclusive to majority of the Systems Alliance brass. A security screen grants Anderson and the guard to pass through, though it beeps off due to the guard's sidearm at his hip. The checkpoint receptionist gets a good look at the pair before waving them on to continue.

In a haste, the guard Anderson is following picks up his walking pace. Anderson might as well jog at this point in the rate they're moving.

Finally, the pair come to normal walking speed when they near a door situated halfway down the long corridor. The guard steps aside gesturing for the admiral to continue through the door. Anderson steps up to the door in which it slides open revealing a dimly lit room, emitting a neon blue hue from a powered on hologram projector. Around the projector, Anderson makes out a pair of humanoid silhouettes.

Entering the room, Anderson nears the group of people, where he makes out the back of Udina's head. Next to the Councilman stands fellow Systems Alliance Admiral kahoku, in his uniform blues.

Before any of them knew that Anderson entered the room, they are in the mitts of a heated discussion.

"…you mean to tell me all communication abilities with the colony have been lost?" Udina speaks in his usual, grudging tone to the admiral. "What about the com buoys? Surly the arrays have remain in tack?"

Admiral Kahoku shakes his head, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead. "None of our asset have been able to establish a clear signal to the colony. We keep getting intercepted by static."

"Damnit!" Udina swears. The councilman takes a breath, and proceeds with a more relax tone. "Well that can be a blessing on our side, this com malfunction. It'll keep the rest of Council space off our backs while we sort through all this sh—" Udina abruptly stops mid-sentence once his attention falls on Anderson. "You're late." He says as a welcome to the admiral.

"I didn't know I was on the clock," Anderson replies, fighting to keep his tone neutral. "What's all this about?"

Udina pauses for a minute, determining where to bring the Admiral up to speed with. "I can't stress this anymore than this, Anderson," Udina begins to say with a strict tone. "What I'm willing to disclose with you shall in no way exit this room along with you, is that understood?"

Anderson gives the councilman a wordless reply, folding his arms tensely and giving Udina a steely stare. His gesture earns a sideways nod form the councilman who turns back to the hologram in front of them.

"There was an accident that occurred in the Cygnus System," Udina begins to explain, offhandedly. "We lost contact with the colony situated on Aegis VII…"

"Wait a minute…" Anderson interjects, "the Cygnus System, you said? I thought that system was deemed prohibited for colonization by Council Law?"

Udina steers his gaze over to a nervous looking Kahoku, who tugs at the collar of his uniform. For a long moment, neither men attempt to say anything, only enticing Anderson's thoughts. He takes the men's silence as they knew this to be true, and they also knew the punishment for breaking a Council enforced law.

"I… I can't believe you two," Anderson scoffs scratching at his brow. "How long has this colony been established and did the Alliance authorize this? Because if I can recall correctly, I have no recent memory of the secret meeting we had behind the Council's back to do this…"

"Anderson, would you just…" Udina stops himself from saying what's really on his mind. Instead, the hotheaded councilman tenses up then release a deep sigh. "Hear me out," he begins in a low yet intense voice. "You have nothing to worry about. You're presumption that the Alliance would cross the Council's judgment is… outrageous at best."

Anderson puts his hands on his hips and cuts his eyes away from Udina with the slight shake of his head.

"But to put your mind at ease," Udina continues, "no. The Alliance didn't and never have or will install a colony in that star system."

"Then who did?" Anderson questions.

Admiral Kahoku consults the hologram controls springing up an insignia that struck out as familiar but foreigner all-together to Anderson. The insignia, consist of an oversize white "C" with a red orb intermingled at the mouth of the letter. It doesn't look like Cerberus, or maybe it could be a variant of the infamous organization's sign.

"I know what you're thinking, admiral," kahoku says. "And it's not… _them."_

_Okay… thanks for clearing that up, _Anderson muses.

"It's the CEC," Kahoku goes on. "A multibillion dollar company that specialize in deep space mining operations all across the galaxy."

"Yeah, and breaking the law along the way," Anderson interjects. "Do you know what the council will do once they discover a Human base company mingling in a star system we have no business meddling in?"

"Yes, we're blatantly aware of the consequences Anderson—you keep reminding us every twenty seconds!" Udina snares. "It's what they don't know that'll guarantee Humanity's position in the galaxy. Shortly before your late arrival, Kahoku and I were contacted by CEC officials who have informed us that they'll handle the matter. They just gave us the heads up in case any other nonaffiliated person, namely nonhumans comes across the matter, to derail their advance in exploring the details of the incident."

"You mean withhold and conceal our illegal activities as usual?" Anderson restates sarcastically. "I can't even believe you just said this."

"Trust me Anderson, I don't like this anymore than you do," Udina reconciles. "But the incident on Aegis VII can and will corner Humanity's interest in a place it doesn't want to be. There is too much at risk to just come clean to the council."

In a way, Anderson finds himself agreeing with Udina on that one. This is the realm of galactic politics, which often lead to sweeping Humanity's dirt under the rug. And, somehow, now it meant putting his ass on the line for a lucrative mining corporation he didn't even know existed till now.

"So tell me how this company thinks it can sort out this... _incident?"_ Anderson asks.

"They haven't spared us any details," Udina begins. "They did, however inform us that they'll handle the matter discreetly."

_That's comforting, _Anderson reflects, finally able to roll his eyes.


	2. Two

**A/N: **_For the sake of this story, all space vessels will utilize the mass effect propulsion method._

* * *

**Two ::: **

**Then and Now**

Resting horizontal upon the bottom bunk, his back pressed against the wall, Isaac Clarke can't avert himself from replying the short video transmission he received from his girlfriend. He knows she's stationed onboard the CEC much acclaimed "planet cracker" class starship, the _USG_ _Ishimura_. A ship he knows has been the unsung hero to Humanity's advancements through the known galaxy. The Council often didn't know or just played dumb on what the CEC fleet was up to around the galaxy. They assumed these massive vessels were constructed for the purpose and ability of syphoning ezzo from a planet's core without ever touching down. Of course, that was all bull, given the fact that ezzo hardly existed on solid terrestrial worlds. Any mouth breather with access to the extranet would know that.

Working under CEC often felt to Isaac like we was partaking in some huge above top secret project. The company consists of over a thousand personnel each outfitted with specific skillsets that give the company its prestigious status as one of the fastest growing public works organizations in the galaxy. Of course, the average galactic citizen doesn't even know this interstellar corporation even exists at all. It is well known, however of their notable "planet cracker" starships, but there is much more the corporation consists of that not even Isaac is aware of.

The work they do isn't all that illegal, but mining planets for their raw materials in this day in age is much like larceny on a galactic scale. From what Isaac has heard floating around about CEC is that they often overstep galactic boundaries in setting up colonies in otherwise nonhuman territories. There was one incident, if he can remember correctly, that almost sparked a war between Humanity and a race of spacefaring anthropoids who call themselves Batarians. It became known as the Skyllian Verge incident, of which the galaxy believes the Systems Alliance progressed too strongly into Batarian space, but that wasn't entirely true.

In fact, the Alliance took the blame for what the CEC caused. Like always, the cooperation stuck to the shadows. But what makes Isaac stomach queasy now is that the CEC may have another potential Skyllian Verge on their hands.

The_ Ishimura _had stop squawking its encrypted transponder through the buoy network. Along with the ship, the colony on Aegis VII had also went dark. Now, Isaac is never the apprehensive type, but he can't fight the feelings of uncertainty that there was something else that caused the blackout, and it isn't the blame of a faulty transmission network array.

Anyway, all of that sits in the back of Isaac's head. For he doesn't care for what pile of crap the CEC plunged itself into this time. His girlfriend is onboard the _Ishimura_ and based off this crummy transmission of hers, he can tell that something bad had happened onboard…

Her words hit him like ice cold water.

"…_I wish I could talk to you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about everything. I wish I could just talk to someone...It's all falling apart here; I can't believe what's happening...it's strange...such a little thing—__"_

~Playback ended~

The free floating lettering over writes Nicole's face, hovering before Isaac's watery eyes. He can feel her pain through the video. She was afraid… of something.

_This isn't some blackout…_ Isaac deeply contemplates, rubbing a hand across his cleanly shaved chin. _This isn't a blackout._

Before his shaken fingers could hit the replay button on the two-dimensional holographic screen, the door to the bunkroom slides open. In a haste, Isaac exits the video interface and makes himself attentive to the person that barged in on his privacy. At the door, he makes out Zack Hammond.

"We're five minutes from dropping into the Cygnus System," he informs Isaac. "Get situated and meet me up at the cockpit." With that, the security officer leaves Isaac's presences.

_Yeah, thanks for knocking…_ Isaac recollects dryly as he scratches the tears from his eyes. He edges up off the bunk and gets to his feet.

Exiting the crew quarters, Isaac starts down the short length of the transport's fuselage until he reaches the aft section of the ship. Back here, he brings his eye to a scanner which verifies his authorization as '_CEC Systems Engineer, I. Clarke._' The metallic panel then parts ways allowing Isaac to retrieve his RIG suit.

RIG systems weren't widely used in the galactic scene, not since the days before Humanity had joined Council Space. It became a thing of the past—a nostalgic piece that was overshadowed with the introduction of what the other alien species call an Omi-tool. However, to retain some recognition of Human ingenuity, the CEC made RIGs standard issue. This often lead to people outside the organization calling them "Azul Backs" or "Glow worms" due to the holographic display that lines across the spine of the back.

Suited up in his engineer class suit, the numbing sensation of the RIG synchronizing with Isaac's nervous system leaves him unable to move his body for a moment. The stone wall effect as it is coined, and that it was. When it finally passes, Isaac tests the dexterity of the suit, finding all systems are operational.

Keeping his helmet apparatus off, Isaac enters the cockpit where the blue-shift of the mass effect drive continues to pour over the reinforced glass canopy. Hammond along with systems specialist Kendra Daniels stand behind the seats of the two pilots preparing to take the transport out of FTL.

An unusual sensation of déjà vu floods over Isaac. Everything from the smell of the recycled air, to the overall "feel" of the cockpit seems oddly familiar. Like he's been here before—well he has, hundreds of times actually, but never in this same exact moment. In a strange way, he can almost sense what the pilot, Chen, is about to say right about now…

"Alright, inflight nav computer coming back online…" the pilot mummers aloud consulting the console before him. "Systems check complete, all essential commands responding," Chen reaches above him, placing a hand on an overhanging lever, "Coming out of FTL in five… four… three… two—"

The transport lurches and the realm of real space springs back into existences, overtaking the canopy. Everyone in the cockpit are caught off guard by the sudden dropout turbulence, but it's nothing new.

"So much for _one,"_ Kendra jeers, recovering from her near fall.

Chen snickers, now gasping the steering yoke, "at least you didn't bash your head into the dashboard like last time right?"

"Just get us to the _Ishimura _in one piece," the Kendra replies.

Isaac remains silent, finding an open seat behind his crewmates. He shakes off the eerie sensation that's he's been here before. He findings that his mind continues to gravitate back to Nicole's last transmission. Just the thought of the message sends a chill going down his spine. He fights the urge of viewing the log now, not in front of Hammond and Kendra. Besides, maybe things on the _Ishimura _aren't as bad as he believes so. Still, he knew Nicole isn't the type to overact to things.

"Damnit!" Hammond's swearing brings Isaac's mind back to reality. The security officer is pressed against the viewport, starring out into the trash field space of the Cygnus System. "Can't see a damn thing with all this debris in the way."

"It's out there, sir," the co-pilot speaks, referring to the radar displayed on the console in front of him. "Sensor's going crazy, detecting a massive signature seventeen thousand kilometers to our bow."

"That's the _Ishimura _alright," Daniels adds in, coming over to the co-pilot's station. "Can you pick up any life signs or shipboard activities?"

The co-pilot shakes his head, "none from what I can tell… no life signs we can detect from this range." He pauses for a moment, pressing in his earbuds and listens inventively. A bewildered look manifest across his face.

"What is it?" Daniels asks.

The co-pilot shakes his head, "I don't know if its interference, but I'm picking up a strange noise… it sounds like… sounds like whispering... but I—"

"Patch it over the main speaker," Hammond instructs.

The co-pilot hits a button that relays what he was hearing on the sensors to the loud speakers of the cockpit. It comes out distorted, resonating through the spacious cockpit full of static and background residue. The sound is hardly audible to the untrained ear, but Isaac begins to hear a pattern in the message… and it repeats over and over again.

"Can you clean this up?" Daniel asks.

"I'll do my best," the co-pilot promises, rerouting the crummy transmission back into his ear-set.

While he is configuring the signal, Chen gasps in announcement. "I got a visual."

Everyone's attention flows up to the canopy. Starring pass the tons of space debris floating about, the unmistakable hull of the _Ishimura _comes into view. It's nothing but a spec in the backdrop of space and to the humongous chunk of planet held in place by its gravity tethers directly below it.

"There she is," Kendra says.

"And it looks like they just popped the cork," adds Hammond. "Get us in closer, Chen," he says to the pilot. "See if you can hail them in."

Chen begins to do just that. "_USG Ishimura_, this is the emergency maintenance team of the_ USG Kellion _responding to your distress call. Come in _Ishimura."_

A long moment transpires with no reply. Chen repeats his last sentence, earning the same results as before.

"Hold up—wait a minute. This doesn't make sense," Johnston, the co-pilot begins to say. "The sensors are picking up lots of shipboard activity. Still negative on the life signs, but everything else is running at peak capacity."

"It's just no one's home to answer our hail," Hammond adds in with an apprehensive tint to his tone.

"Then we must've been right about this after all," Kendra says. "It may be nothing more than a communications malfunction."

"I can see that possibility," Hammond agrees, rubbing a thoughtful hand to his chin. "But by now, their sensors should have detected us the moment we meshed into the system. Why haven't they at least sent an escort craft out to meet us?"

He's right. It's standard procedure for all CEC starships, during the event of a communications failure, or any emergency of that matter, procedures are followed as to send a security escort vessel out to any incoming CEC verified ship during an attempted dock. Though Isaac believes this isn't the case at the moment.

"I'm telling you," Hammond continues through the silence of his crewmates, "something feels off about this. And the blackout on Aegis VII…"

"Magnetic interference," Kendra proclaims folding her arms. "Completely normal during the events following a planet crack. There shouldn't be anything to worry—"

—The _Kellion _is struck with a hard hitting impact against its hull, catching Isaac and his companions off guard.

"The hell was that!?" Hammond sneers to Chen.

"Debris from the planet crack," explains the pilot in a calm voice. "Some of it is floating into our flight path."

"Well dodge the freakin' things!" Kendra says. "We didn't come all this way to get hung up on a little debris field."

"I wouldn't call it… _little_…" Hammond says, bracing himself following another impact to the transport's hull. The once seamless journey is now riddled with shakes and sways of the immediate debris field they've flown into. Isaac guesses that it was inevitable to avoid, seeing that the Cygnus System is notorious for its dense debris fields, as he his crew are now facing.

"It's gonna get rougher than a son of a bitch," Johnston, the ship's navigator cautions. "Hold on to somethin'."

At that instant, the hull thunders with the ripple of thousands of micro debris fragments. Isaac grips the armrest of his chair with white knuckles as the transport shakes vigorously. The once eerie silence that held everyone hostage is now filled with the rumble of the hull plating breaking and tearing around them. And then, the unexpected happens.

The _Kellion _jolts violently, sending Hammond and Kendra nearly falling over. Screeching out over the thunderous sound, is the unmistakable sound of a compromised mass effect core. The flaring warning sirens blasting off from the console only highlight Isaac's fears

"Shit! We have multiple hull breaches!" Johnston shouts out over the deafening sounds. "We're losing pollution stabilizer pressure!"

Isaac's heart racing a thousand miles per minute, he can do nothing but ride this roller coaster of death homing in right for the _Ishimura's _rugged portside.

"Fuck it!" Chen spits out, gripping the steering yoke with vein popping arms. "Steering controls are shot to shit… I'll try to set er' down on the _Ishimura. _Everyone hang on—we're goin in hard!"

Isaac clenches his eyes shut, bracing for what he hopes won't be the end of his life. The sound of steel and glass blasting apart splinters his eardrums to the point where everything falls into a ringing silence.

* * *

Daring to open his eyes, Isaac discovers his sight is totally obscured in a blinding white light. The lingering ring in his ear increasing in volume to the point that it swallows him whole. The sound presses against his eardrums, creating discomfort that quickly alters into pain. Agony bouncing around his skull and resonating down to his ribs. Everything hurts as if the transport itself had landed on top of him. And then, he begins to see something, a small glimmer of detail that is enough to drag him back into reality.

Two pairs of voices, one belonging to a woman and the other a man. Distorted to Isaac, he latches on to the unfamiliar voices. It isn't Hammond or Kendra, or anyone that he's familiar with in the matter. Yet, for some reason, these two voices he recalls hearing before, many times before actually.

In that instant, the blinding white wrapped around his eyes retreats, and Isaac is brought back to the hard reality of where he's actually been.

He discovers that he's lying down looking up at the ceiling of a room. Unable to move an inch, the blinding light of the overhead lamp dims just a bit for Isaac to make out in the corner of his vision a dull green Asari standing over him. The Asari doesn't glance down at Isaac, who tries calling out to her, but he soon discovers that his words are forced back down his throat, unable to escape pass the numbness harboring his mouth.

_"Why have you stopped?"_ The unseen male voice says strongly through what Isaac believes is a hologram interface based off its slight voice distortion. "_Did you find it?_ _Were you successful?"_

"No," the Asari replies with a tired sigh. "His mind is—"

"The _Specimen's _mind," the man corrects her wording.

The Asari sighs placing a hand to her face, "his mind is too sporadic… resilient in a sense. I can't seem to progress beyond this one fragmented stream of his memory…"

"_I don't want to hear what you can't do!"_ Came the man's boiling response._ "Surly there is some way you can speed up the process; fast forward to a later part of the Specimen's psyche?"_

The Asari pauses, finally, she looks down at Isaac, matching him eye to eye. Her expression blank of any emotion. "I could, but—"

"_Ah—Ah! No buts. You claim you can perform as such, then you will_. _What this Specimen has locked in his head is of great importance. I do not care how long it takes, you will continue your session even if it last an entire solar year; do I make myself clear?"_

The Asari shifts uncomfortable in her stance before replying, "I'll do my best to not jellify you're Specimen's head any more than it already is." Again, the Asari stares down at Isaac, this time, he is able to feel her cold, clammy hands touching on the sides of his head.

With pleading eyes, Isaac attempts to speak again only in a vain attempt of muffled murmurs and gargles. Desperately, he struggles to move his arms and legs off this table he's strapped on, but the restraints are so tight, not even a Krogan on speed could get free.

The Asari brings her face inches from Isaac of which the man can feel the exhale of her breath across his forehead. His eyes widen at the sight of the Asari's own eyes transforming into two darken orbs.

"I apologize in advance for whatever pain you may experience," she murmurs in a regretful tone.

Unable to put up a fight, Isaac is sucked back into the horrors of the _Ishimura. _Forced to relive the most frightening moments of his life as if it were his first.

* * *

An unknowable amount of time has passed by the time Isaac returns from his memory trip. Upon waking, he finds himself in a cold sweat, his body trembling like a leaf and the horrors trapped in the back of his mind playing Ping-Pong with his brain.

To the side of him, he can hear the Asari panting her breaths, like she just finished running a marathon.

"_Status report," _came that unseen man voice resonating out a holo-projector just out of Isaac's sight. "_Status report,"_ the man repeats in a raised tone.

"I… I tried," the Asari sighs breathless. "There is no way I can speed up this process—that's… that's not how organic memories work." She catches her breath somewhat, before continuing. "You have to remember, when I'm in his head… or anyone's at that matter, it's like riding a wave. I can't control where it goes… I can only ride it out… to see it through. There is no… jumping ahead to the good stuff—don't you understand that!?"

A long pauses harbors the damp enclosed room until the unseen man replies with, "_I understand completely. I understand that you sold yourself pretty high judging upon the potential of your abilities. However, given the duration of your last trial, I guess you made some form of progress, yes? Have you seen it yet? Do you have a location of where the artifact may be?"_

The Asari shakes her head, "I'm halfway there… but this man's mind is a shit mess." She wipes a slick of sweat from her face, where the precipitation lands across Isaac's bare chest. "Now if you asks me, I don't even know if he remembers his own name at this point. If he had contact with this… _artifact,_ I hardly believe he'll be adequate in providing us with much of anything to go off of."

"_My superiors believe otherwise_," Came the man's response. "_As for you, I'll grant you a few hours rest. Once you return, we'll pick up where you left off. I can feel it, we're getting close."_

"If you say so," The Asari duly agrees. "What about him?" She asks nodding over towards Isaac.

_"What about it?"_ Replies the man impassively.

* * *

Isaac doesn't remember being tossed into a holding cell… a _familiar_ holding cell. His body so weak and limp, the cockroach marching across the floor pass his vision could probably beat him in a fight.

He lies on the hard cemented floor starring up sideways to the dank walls enclosed around him. There is a cot just a pace in front of him, but it might as well be a thousand miles away.

The familiar makeup of his cell reintroduces itself to Isaac, the hieroglyphic engravings carved into the walls begin to make sense to him all over again. He remembers seeing these symbols flash before his mind's eye, along with the various whispery voices that echo in his skull. The more he listens to the voices—the harder he studies the symbols, they begin to make sense… and then… _she _appears.

"You have to do it Isaac," her light, disembodied voice tickles the hairs lining his skin. "Make us whole again, Isaac. Make us whole."

* * *

_**A/N: Well its certainly clear that Isaac has been held prisoner for a while and that the events that occurred on the Ishimura have long since transpired. But who are these people holding him captive and what is their ultimate goal?**_


	3. Three

**Three ::: **

**The Return: part I**

* * *

[[[ Classified: _SR-2 _Lazarus Cell operative interviews ]]]

**[:]** FPA: Post Omega Four Relay survivor analysis **[:]**

* * *

"_I don't even know how I made it out alive,"_ survivor Kelly Chambers speaks teary eyed to the Alliance examiner sitting across the table from her. _"There was so much... chaos…"_

"_Take as much time as you need Ms. Chambers,"_ the interrogator says in a comforting tone. _"What you've been through… it's alright to be traumatized by what happened."_

**[::]**

"…_Yew can spin it any way ya like,"_ Kenneth Donnelly, survivor and engineer of the Lazarus Cell explains. _"Survivor's guilt… why sum people died and othas didn't—_I_ didn't…" _he shakes his head. _"I dunno how da hell it happened. I wus recoverin' from being nabbed by the aliens when da whole ship started bangin' up."_

_"Can you described what was the first thing you saw was?"_ The woman examiner questions, calming taking notes on her datapad.

Donnelly suddenly finds himself going quiet. His mind flowing back to the first vivid images of the doomed _Normandy_. _"It wus… somethin' I'll never forget…"_

**[::]**

"…_The ship was limping on one leg when we busted through the relay, no pun intended," _survivor and pilot of the _SR-2, _Jeff Moreau says while leaning back in his seat across from the examiner. "_We were already in a hard spot… and then it turned into a total shit storm…"_

_ "Can you elaborate on that, Mr. Moreau?"_ Asks the examiner.

_"On what?_ _Don't you guys have enough eyewitness accounts as it is?"_ Jeff questions.

_"We need every person who were present on the _Normandy_ at the time of the incident's input so that we can get a clear picture as to what happened."_

_"Good people died, that's what happened_," Jeff scoffs crossing his arms. "_There is no clearer picture than that."_

_"Mr. Moreau…"_ the examiner begins to say before Jeff cuts him off.

"_No,_ _don't_ '_Mr. Moreau' me!" _Exclaims the pilot. _"Look, this interview's a waste of time… can we speed this up—I gotta take a piss?"_

"_You'll exit this room once you've given us what we want_," the examiner says with a grudging tone.

_"And that is?" _Jeff urges on.

_"The last known orders your Commanding Officer gave you…"_

Jeff sighs, slapping a palm to his face, "_com-on— how many times I gotta tell ya?_ _What you want me to do huh? Scream it at you like a Vorcha on his period?"_

"_We know your Commanding Officer ordered you to set a destination through the Hourglass Nebula. What we don't know is why…"_

Jeff shrugs nonchalantly, _"look man, I'm just the helmsman. I plot coordinates. I follow orders."_

_ "We also know that once the _SR-2_ meshed into the Nebula was the approximate time that the incident occurred onboard," _the examiner goes on unaverred by the pilot's last statement_. "What was it that you and your crew encountered while traversing through the nebula?"_

Jeff exhales through his nostrils and falls silent, slumping back into his chair, _"is it too late for me to take a piss?"_

**[::]**

* * *

[…..CLASSIFIED FILE: AUTHORIZE PERSONNEL ONLY…..]

_**File name: Post Omega Four Relay incident**_

_**Timestamp: nineteen days ago**_

_**Location: **_**Normandy SR-2**_** frigate; 02:51 hours Earth time**_

_[[…Please advise that this transcription is a near-accurate recreation of the _Normandy SR-2 incident. _Comprised from preliminary first person accounts of the survivors of the event…]]_

* * *

His body sore beyond apparent reason, Shepard grunted in pain as he plucked at the plating of his armor. He stood in the middle of his private quarters, alone, a rather spacious quarters that rivaled that of a five star class suite on Illium. Shepard hardly had the time to plunder through what all his room had to offer, there wasn't much time to do anything.

Getting the last portion of his armor off, Shepard massaged a tender abrasion in his left shoulder blade. An area of his body that hadn't healed totally following the number of procedures Cerberus did on him.

His armor lying in pieces on the floor around him, Shepard doesn't bother picking them up. Instead, he wandered over to his bed and sits on the edge of it. He stared out into space, balancing his chin in his hands and looking out at nothing in particular.

You'll think he'd be in a good mood, seeing that he and his team pulled off the impossible. They did something every current galactic being to date thought was sheer suicide. Surprised himself, Shepard didn't feel the euphoria, and he guessed that neither of his crewmates did either. He could almost sense it in the air, a mundane plague overhanging everyone's head. Yeah, they stuck it to the Collectors on their own turf, but this war has just began. They just threw the first knockout blow—but the Reapers will recover… they're relentless. And now, for the first time, Shepard has reached a pivotal point of this journey.

Where to go next?

Rubbing a hand across his face, Shepard released a deep set sigh then forced himself off his bed. He stripped off his underlying clothes then steps into the shower. As the warm water came dribbling down his body, a hard thought came coursing through his head. One he didn't like, but has to be done.

* * *

Refreshed from his brief shower and dressed in a neat, shipboard uniform, Shepard steps out his room and taps the holographic button of the elevator. It arrives and he sets his destination for the CIC.

The doors part ways, Shepard steps onto the abandoned CIC. Most of this deck's personal are down below in medical, them along with majority of the ship's crew. The galaxy map remains inactive, leaving the CIC in near darkness. Machines and consoles glow and hum in the background, creating some senses that the _Normandy_ isn't just a ghost ship.

Following down the extended fuselage, pass the heat-loss stations and the airlocks, Shepard enters in on the _Normandy's_ pilot, Joker.

The pilot gasped with a flinch upon Shepard's unannounced arrival, "Jesus! What are you, a ninja now?" Joker exclaimed, dramatically clenching a hand to his chest. "No wonder you stuck a foot up the Collectors' asses."

"How's she holding up?" Shepard asked in a monotone, referring to the Normandy.

"She took some damage… and by _some _I mean a shit load of damage," came Joker's usual satirical reply. "Surprise she didn't keel over when we ditched ourselves in that big ass cocoon the Collectors called a home."

"Yeah… thought we were done for then too," Shepard agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. Every inch of that place still crawled within him. The dingy stench, rotting corpses and of course that Human looking Reaper leaves in everlasting image in Shepard's brain. He knew, for a fact, it'll take time for him to decompress from that freak show. He could honestly suggest that most of his crew, especially the ones who were kidnapped, felt the same way, or worse.

Quick to change the subject, and to rid his mind of those terrible images, Shepard consulted EDI, the _Normandy's_ integrated A.I.

"EDI, how extensive is the structural damage to the _Normandy_?" He questioned the A.I. leaning his arm upon the unoccupied co-pilot chair.

A lengthy pauses enters the conversation, where EDI's disembodied voice usual will reply to his command. Shepard raised a brow to the unusual matter. "EDI…?"

"She can't hear you, Commander." Joker said, leaning back in his chair. "Don't worry, she isn't ignoring you… I think. She told me something about… efficiently distributing essential energies of the _Normandy's_ power grid to life support. It took a big hit when we had that shootout with that Collector ship." He turned his attention back to the vivid console in front of him, "just think of it this way; we'll be chocking on our own blood right about now if she wasn't sustaining life support. And don't sweat it, I got the ship's integrity report right here."

A few keystrokes later, Joker brought up a three dimensional under scaled model of the Normandy. There were many compartments flashing red, indicating hazards of hull integrity. Some areas of the ship, such as the hanger bay had been rendered uninhabitable. The vacuum of space has found its way inside, nipping away at their oxygen supply. No wonder Shepard felt a bit lightheaded ever since being back onboard.

"We're piss air out into space faster than you can say 'boo'." Joker said. "At this rate, with like what… a hundred people onboard—including a six foot eleven Krogan, we'll be at the threshold level of danger in less than seven hours, even with EDI workin' her robo magic."

"We're gonna have to make landfall soon then," Shepard mused aloud, "somewhere close."

"Not a problem Commander, just hit up the galaxy map and say the word."

Pondering his thoughts for a moment, Shepard comes to the conclusion of where he'll move his team next. "I already have a destination in mind," he said. "Hourglass nebula… Sowilo System."

Joker paused for a moment then gave the Commander a brief stare. Shepard knew the pilot wanted an explanation, and he owes him one as such. Joker's performance throughout this entire thing is worthy of medals and recognition, though Shepard could care less about that. He has the pilot's respect as much as Joker has his. So with that mutual loyalty between them, Joker doesn't question Shepard's judgment, not yet at least. "Aye—aye," the pilot drummed out, turning back to the console, "plotting course now."

Shepard sighed lightly through his nostrils, awaiting confirmation from Joker.

"Coordinates locked… heading for the nearest mass relay, Commander," Joker reported, cutting through the stillness between them. "We'll mesh into the Sowilo System in less than five hours. Plenty of time before we end up suffocating to death."

"Good job Joker," Shepard complemented, disregarding Joker's last, sarcastic statement. "Hail me if anything comes up." With that, Shepard stepped out the cockpit making his way back to the elevator to address the major population of his ship.

Waiting for the lift to arrive, Shepard's wrist hailer beeped off. He answers the hail, only for the receiving end to be flooded with background noise of people talking all at once. At last, he is able to make out Miranda's voice amongst the mess of voices.

"_Shepard…we…. Come down…_"

"Say again?" Shepard replied.

The noise in the background decreased enough for him to make out what Miranda was saying. "_We have a problem down here, Shepard."_

"I'm on my way now, Miranda," he tells her, at the time the lift doors open.

* * *

Arriving on the crew deck, the ghostly stillness of the ship is replaced with a gauntlet of voices all talking at once. Deck three was a charge of activity. The breathable air itself was much, much thinner down here. Shepard found it nearly impossible to fill his lungs with air. Each whiff is hardly half a breath. He stretches the collar of his shirt then pivots around the corner of the hallway where his path is intercepted by a trio of the _Normandy's_ medical staff.

Shepard's eyes trace the rushing medical staff to the mass of injured and dazed crewmates waiting to be tended too. Shepard knew when the Collectors took his people that there wasn't a good chance any of them were coming back alive. When they blew through the Collector's base, that statement rang true to Shepard and his handpick insertion squad. He and his team discovered that half of the Normandy's initial crew were already dead. Engineers, systems specialist… pretty much everyone that kept this ship going for the pass months they've been traversing the cosmos, dead. It was hard for Shepard and his team to go on, for that was one of the main reasons in them attacking the Collectors.

However, at the end of the day, they did manage to rescue others. Human colonist that had been kidnapped by the aliens. Now all seventy-six of them are crammed into the crew and engineering deck of the vessel.

He started down the narrow corridor, stepping over dazed colonist laying on the floor, back against the walls or just milling about with an aimless purpose. Half of them still suffered from the shock of being trapped in those vats for God knows how long.

Shepard brushed his way pass the wandering colonist and found himself in the ship's galley, now retrofitted into a makeshift triage center since medical is overflowed with wounded.

"Shepard!" A profound, yet clearly tired voice from behind called. Approaching him through the mass of people, Shepard saw Jacob Taylor. The man's face looked like he was melting, he looked so exhausted, yet he came attentive to the Commander's presences. "Commander, things are just going from bad to worse. Food storage got spaced and we're running low on water."

"That isn't the only thing we're running out of…" Shepard murmured. "Where's Miranda? She hailed me?"

"Commander…" Shepard steered his attention to his left where he sees Miranda coming over from the far end of the galley. She steps over a line of colonist lying upon stretchers on the floor. Shepard noted that Miranda looked equally wasted as Jacob, her hair stuck to the sweat poured along her face. When she was close enough, she tugged on the Commander's sleeve drawing him near. "I need to speak to you, immediately." She said to him in a low, intense tone.

"Then speak," Shepard said.

She shook her head, "not here…" she said, side glancing the colonist around them. "The briefing room…" She passed him by, heading that way. "You too, Jacob."

The two men began following Miranda to the lift when Shepard heard his name being called from somewhere behind him.

"Down here…" Shepard's gaze fell upon a wounded Zaeed Massani, sprawled out on a stretcher. "Help me up, Shepard… don't leave me here like this."

"Sorry Zaeed," Shepard apologizes, knelling down near the man's side. "You took a nasty hit… you're lucky to still be alive."

"I wouldn't… say that," Zaeed grunts out. "Can hardly… breathe in this son-of-a bitch! Too many bodies... suckin up all da air."

Shepard took his attention to the wounded colonist lying alongside Zaeed. These people needed more than just the limited space on this deck. He curses himself for not thinking about it before.

"Shepard!?" Miranda's voice calls out to him, she and Jacob were boarding onto the lift and were waiting on him.

Turning his attention back to Zaeed, Shepard said, "hang in there, Massani. I'll be back."

From his side, another person came over, casting a shadow over Shepard. It was Karin Chakwas, "how are you feeling, Mr. Massani?" The doctor asked him, knelling alongside Shepard and wiping a bead a sweat from her tired face. It surprised Shepard as to how the doctor along with the three other ship docs were running back and fro checking up on the injured. They themselves were taken by the Collectors, and Shepard could see the toll it had on them. And if that weren't enough, this low air quality was another punch in the gut.

"Like a ray of sunshine," came Zaeed's pain stricken response.

"He's stabilizing, Commander," Chakwas told Shepard waving her Omi-tool over Massani. "Be on your way, I'll watch over him."

* * *

They stood in the near dark briefing room on deck two; Shepard, Jacob and Miranda. Along with Jack and Samara. The air in the room was constricting, stuffy and sweltering with their added body heat. The life support was failing along with the overall condition of the _Normandy. _Shepard was just surprised the ship didn't just shake apart.

"There's something wrong with the abductees," Miranda began to say, her voice trying to retain some substance, but Shepard knew she was going off fumes. Everyone was, at this point. They just got through fighting the Collectors and have been up for the better part of a day… or two. Shepard fought the fatigue trying to close in around him.

"Little over an hour ago… three of them… just died," she went on. "Along with them, there have been fifteen fatalities in the pass ten hours and counting."

"So? What are we supposed to do about it?" Asked Jack in an aggravated tone. The sweat on body glisters off her pale complexion.

"Try to figure out why people who were in stable condition when we extracted them from the Collectors are now dropping dead like flies." Miranda replies.

"It could be that… the Collectors infected them with… some form of pathogen," Jacob suggested, speaking in a shallow hush voice. "That could mean… all them are infected."

"Where are the bodies now?" Shepard asked.

"In the hanger bay," Miranda replied wiping the back of her hand against her forehead. "I had Legion, Garrus and Mordin move the corpses away from the general population till we know what the hell is going on."

"Did any of the colonist see them move the bodies?" Shepard asked. "I don't want a mass panic."

Miranda shook her head, "I don't think so. Half of the dead looked like they were sleep in their hammocks. So it wasn't too hard to remove them from medical without causing a fuzz."

"I thought the hanger was occupied by the vacuum of space?" Samara brought up.

"It is," Jacob said. "That along with food storage and some parts of subdeck are spaced out."

"And we're spewing air like crazy," Shepard said, adding more fuel to the fire. "We have about… ten hours' worth, thanks to EDI. That's more than enough time to make landfall…"

"We aren't setting this ship down anywhere," Miranda declared. "Not until we figure out what this thing is killing the colonist."

"Hold up—what?" Jack quacked. "You're gonna keep us onboard this fuckin' ship? Till we run outta air to fuckin' breath!?"

Miranda sighed, "I know it's drastic, Jack. But we can't risk docking the _Normandy_ at any spaceport. We don't know if what the colonist have is airborne, circulating around the ship as we speak."

Before Jack could protest, Shepard spoke up first, "she's right, Jack. We have no idea what the Collectors did to the colonist. For all we know, we all may be infected."

Jack was a loss of words. Shepard couldn't blame her. They came all this way, battled and defeat the galaxy's most destructive species to date… to suffocate and die on a ship. If it meant sparing the galaxy from a possible destructive pathogen, then what choice did they have? After all, this mission was deemed _suicide _from the get-go.

Suddenly, the _Normandy_ pitched sharply causing everyone to stumble. Shepard caught his balance and recovered. The constant low reverberation of mass effect core has all but ceased, leaving a hollow silence in its wake.

"We've stopped moving," Samara commented.

"Yeah, we've noticed," Jack said soon after.

Shepard immediately got on his hailer, "Joker, what's going on? Why have we stopped?"

It took a moment for Joker responses to come through, and when it finally did, it left Shepard's blood falling cold. _"Commander, you gotta see this…"_

* * *

_**A/N: Next chapter… all hell breaks loose.**_


	4. Four

**Four ::: **

**The Return: Part II**

* * *

"_When it happened… it happened swiftly and without mercy,"_ survivor Karin Chakwas explains to the examiner in the room with her. "_I don't think anyone onboard saw it coming. Happened so fast…"_

"…_There is nothing that in my lifetime, will ever measure up to the sheer terror I felt and saw." _Karin continues to explain, deeper into the interview. _"It was like hell itself had followed us through that Relay." _Her gaze becomes distant and she falls silent for a moment, before taking a shallow breath. "_Now, I was never thought to be a very religious person… or a firm believer of… God. Some omniscient figure of the universe. After going through this, however..." _she shrugs innocently, crossing her legs_. "Well, I can afford to be a little impartial…"_

* * *

_**02: 51 hours**_

_**Normandy SR-2 medical center**_

* * *

Time seemed to slow down for Karin Chakwas as she stared upon the sea of wounded in her vicinity. The med-bay was choke full of wounded and she knew there were about four dozen more sitting out in the galley being tended to by the three other ship docs. For the most part, they were maintaining themselves quite efficiently given the poor line of circumstances that have came their way. If being kidnapped by aliens that supposedly don't exist wasn't bad enough already, the wellbeing of the colonist was another factor on its own.

The med-bay was fogged with the heavy scent of sweat and the putrid stench of open wounds boarding infection. It was unbearably hot too, like being trapped in an oven, even with the lines of propeller fans blowing the air in every direction in hopes of creating a more tolerable climate. It worked, to a certain degree. Now if only there was something to reduce the lack of supplies onboard the vessel.

They were running low on medi-gel, of which Karin sent the Quarian, Tali, down to crew storage to fetch some more. Truth was, there was hardly any left in storage as well. There was hardly anything left besides dust and crumbs. They've pretty much burned through the reserves in healing colonists harboring life threatening injuries. It seemed like everything they needed the most wasn't preset at the moment.

"Doctor."

Karin heard her title being called by a familiar, accented voice. She didn't stir her concentration of evaluating a patient as Tali approached, standing opposite of the patient's sickbed.

Tali went on to speak, "we're at the minimum quality of any medical supplies in storage. But… I was able to distribute drinking water for the wounded. It isn't enough, but still… better than nothing."

"Pretty soon we'll _have_ nothing at all," Karin replied, somewhat repulsive. It wasn't directed towards anyone but herself. Caught in her own emotions. Noticing her behavior, she brought her attention to Tali, "I'm sorry, it has nothing to do with you…"

"Oh, no—please doctor. I understand," Tali reconciled. "You're doing your best. And it's the Collector's fault that we're in this mess."

"Yes well," Karin sighed. "It's our job to make sure everyone makes it out alive. That'll be payback enough, wouldn't you agree?"

The groans emitting from the patient in Karin's care grabbed her immediate attention. "Good, he's gaining consciousness." Karin quickly stepped over on the other side of the patient's bed, prompting Tali to take a step back, allowing the doctor to tweak an overhanging device that monitor's the patient's bio readings.

"Alright, brain activity looking normal… body temperate's a bit high… but shouldn't be an issue…" Karin paused from her musing and stared down at the patient. His eyes crept open slowly and he stirs sluggishly upon the cot.

"Wut… wh-where…" he began to mutter incoherently.

"It's alright, be still. You're okay," Karin comforted, gently nudging the patient back down on the cot. His cloudy eyes connected with hers, a wave of confusion behind them. His eyes then begin shifting, taking stock of the immediate surroundings.

"Wut… where… where am I?" Asked the patient.

"You're in the _Normandy's_ med clinic," Karin told him, speaking consistent enough for him to understand. "Do you know where that is?"

The patient stared at her with a looked contorted in bewilderment. It was normal that abductees exhibited massive memory gaps, yet only for a few minutes—no longer than fifteen minutes after waking. Karen should know, she didn't recognize a corner of the ship's interior when she was brought back onboard till twenty minutes later.

"The… _Normandy?"_ Recalled the patient in a total confusion.

Shaking her head, Karin knew it'll take time for the patient to recollect. In the meantime, she managed to coax the still shaken patient to remain still in the hammock while instructing Tali to bring over some water.

"Do you remember your name?" Karin questions while shinning a pinsize flashlight into the patient's eye. She noted that his irises hadn't retracted. Normal, in relation to the circumstances.

"My…m-my name. K-Kenneth. Kenneth Don—Donnelly."

"Very good, Kenneth," Karin said flashed him a smile in which he returned a weak one.

At that time, Tali returned with the canteen of water. Karin took the water and held it to Kenneth's lips. She eased the man's head up and allowed him two quick sips before handing the canteen back to Tali.

Kenneth eyed the canteen, when his gaze flowed up to the Tali. A look of bewilderment came across his face, "a Quarian?" He looked back to Karin cracking a weary grin, "ya sure we're on da _Normandy?"_

Karin looked up at Tali, and knew the young Quarian understood where Kenneth's misconception was coming from.

"I can assure you," Karin began to tell him. "This is the _Normandy._ Now lie down, Kenneth, you need you're strength."

He complied, easing himself in the hammock and settled in.

That's when she heard her name being called, this time from one of the shipboard medics who stood at the doorway of the med-bay. A dismay look sprawled across the medic's face along with the solemn shake of the head sent a pit in Karin's gut. She knew what this meant, and she bellowed a deep sigh prepare herself for what she has to do next. As she began to step away to attend to the matter, Tali held out her hand, preventing Karin from walking away.

"I'll handle it, doctor," said the Quarian.

Karin gave her a brisk nod, thankful and bit ashamed. Then again, she had to admit to herself, she was getting sick and tired of seeing dead people.

* * *

Another one had died. There was a pattern beginning to form: three would die every hour. Tali had lost count on how many have died so far, and she wasn't going to trek down to deck four where she knew the dead were staking up.

"Which one?" She asked the medic in a morose tone.

Tali followed the medic, stepping over the wounded sprawled out before the floor of the galley. The medic wordlessly points to a hammock occupied with a motionless body of a female Human—no much older than Tali herself.

For an extensive moment, Tali stared at the corpse belonging to the colonist. Her eyes were still open, starring up at the ceiling with a ceaseless emptiness. Tali stripped her gaze from the corpse and stood at the foot of the stretcher while the medic got on the other end. At the same time, the pair lifted the stretcher waist high then navigated it over near the short corridor leading to the lift.

Gently setting the corpse down, the medic quickly departs to check up on the others, leaving Tali to hail Garrus, Legion and Mordin. The nonofficial corpse gathers.

She snatched the handheld device off her hip and brought it close to her mouthpiece in her mask. "Garrus…?"

It took a second for the Turian to answer. When he did, he released a lengthy sigh, apparently knowing what the call was for.

_"Please tell me you have something good, for a change?" _Came his sharpened voice.

As much as Tali wanted to tell him something good, there was nothing pleasant to speak of that crossed her mind. Everything was bleak— falling apart, slowly and painfully. She stared back down at the dead Human, finding her gaze being swallowed up by the stillness of corpse's eyes. She forced herself to look away—at anything. But all her eyes could gaze upon was more suffering.

After she hadn't spoken for a moment, Garrus' voice traveled back through the receiver of her hailer.

"_Tali? You there?"_

"Yes—yes, I'm… I'm here," she told him, regaining her composure. "There's another by the lift gate."

Garrus went silent before replying, in a low mutter, "_be there in five._" His hailer immediately went to standby mode, ending the call. Tali couldn't blame the Turian, she hated bad news, and it seemed like the only thing that wasn't in short supply.

She took a moment to recollect herself, leaning against a wall and momentarily closed her eyes. With some effort, she was, for a short while, able to filter out the constant aches and groans coming from the sick and injured around her. It was like the Collectors were just the start of it all. When Shepard recruited her along for this mission, he did state that there wasn't a good chance they were coming back, but at least they spared the galaxy from the alien threat being controlled by the Reapers. Too bad they couldn't save themselves.

Dragging Tali back to the endless torment, a constant cough reverberated in her encased helmet. She pinpointed the source of it emitting from a patient laying in a cot nearby. Stepping off the wall, she approached the cot, only to discover the intense coughing coming from Zaeed. His body jolted and cringed from each rapid cough, urging Tali to fetch the canteen she left in the med-bay. It was less than the halfway mark at that point, meaning she had to ration it appropriately. She second-guessed giving Zaeed a drop, but his continued coughing episode forced her to return to him.

"Here, drink this," she offered, knelling at his side.

Zaeed shook his head, refusing the water, while still coughing his lungs out. The bloody wound to his abdomen was still visible, though the medi-gel was working its wonder.

"You need this!" Tali said with more emphasis.

"I'm not… takin'… dat wata," Zaeed hoarsely croaked. "It'll only go to waste."

"Don't speak that way," Tali said, carrying a steeliness to her voice. "You took a hard hit, but that doesn't mean you're going to die."

"Fokin' insectoid bastards… blew a damn hole right thru my ass…" Zaeed began coughing again, twisting in his hammock. Ceasing his cough a bit, he turns upon his back again, "thanks for not… leaving ma sorry ass out there though…"

Tali felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She never thought much of Zaeed, when she first met him. She didn't trust nor like him in the least. He was just another muscle-head scumbag Shepard had recruited for the mission, in her eyes. Nevertheless, she had to admit, over the course of time, Zaeed began to grow on her. He usually kept to himself— she often caught him talking to himself from time to time. Despite his odd and aggressive behavior, she gave the man a chance, for she knew there was more to him than just hatred and pain. And she was partially right, at least.

"Yes well, Grunt did most of the lifting," Tali said to him, trying her best to suppress a smile. It's not like anyone could see it, but she didn't like the fact of smiling while everyone around her was in pain.

Zaeed coughed a slight laugh, "damn near… dislocated my shoulder yankin' me along. Fokin' Krogan."

"At least you're still in one piece," Tali said standing back up. "Now sit tight and try not to do anything stupid."

Zaeed shrugged, grinning through the pain he must've been experiencing. "I'll try."

Tali shook her head turning away from the man. There were other, much dire tasks she had to attend to.

* * *

It was believed that Garrus hated the job that fell unfortunately upon him. He may also had been sure, Mordin and even Legion to some sense hated it too. Again they were called to take out a colonist who had suddenly and mysterious died while in recovery. It was the eighteenth fatality thus far, and Garrus was getting tired with keeping track with the statistics.

"Damn… so young," Garrus said with the shake of his head as he stared down at the female Human corpse.

"Unfortunate," Mordin muttered; the Salarian wasn't even looking at the corpse, but at the holographic screen of his Omi-tool. "Sad, death is. However, natural order for organic lifeforms."  
"This isn't natural," Garrus said. "Something is killing these colonists. This is like the twentieth body we had to pull out of medical."

"See a pattern developing, yes?" Asked Mordin, though the question sounded more like aloud thinking. "Ah… yes. You're correct. Not natural. This thing is. Body count too high—deliberate, these deaths are."

"Did you come up with that all by yourself?" Garrus replied, clearly making his sarcasm noticeable.

Mordin seemed to have ignored it, or didn't hear what the Turian had said altogether. The Salarian toggled his Omi-tool and finally looked down at the corpse set between Garrus and himself. Again, he sprung his Omi-tool active, quickly making calibrations with the speedy type of his fingers then swept it over the corpse.

By that time, the lift gate doors parted ways allowing access to the fourth deck of the _Normandy._ Standing immediate at the foot of the open door was Legion. The Geth's mono optic eye swiveled down from its slender head and landed on the newly arrived corpse.

"Turian ally—Salarian ally," Legion addressed them, in his usual Geth way of identifying them. It took Garrus some getting used to when they reactivated the Geth onboard the _Normandy_. That, along with the reason on why they had a walking talking Geth onboard the ship in the very first place. "Shall I obtain the decease Human female and transport the remains with the remainders?"

"Not just yet," Mordin said, now deeper intrigued with the body. He crouched down, practically putting his face within inches of the dead body's face. His large, dark eyes studied the face with intensity. "Thoughtless of me, should have detected this before."

"Detected what?" Garrus asked.

Mordin didn't reply straight away. Instead, the Salarian squatted down near the body, still lying fresh in its stretcher. Mordin drew something out his coat pocket which Garrus identified as a swab with a cotton end probe. He watched Mordin trace the bottom eyelid of the dead colonist, not seeing anything in particular. Then, Mordin takes the swab back, where a mucus like substance clings like a web to the end of the swab from off the corpse's face.

"What is that?" Garrus questioned in a waivered voice.

"Something to consider," Mordin replied, twirling the swab with two fingers, gathering as much of the strange substance on the cotton end till it builds into a clear, mushy mass. He dug out a plastic bag from his pocket and puts the gooey content into it. Mordin quickly stood back up, smacking his hands together as if dusting them off. "Something out-of-the natural order of things—these deaths are. Immediate blood samples must be taken of the decease and of breathing patients in med-bay. Evaluations must be made in determining root cause of unfortunate deaths."

Without another word, Mordin stepped back into the lift and ushered the body out. Garrus helped, bringing the corpse into deck four's central corridor. It was empty besides themselves, most of the colonists were another deck below, occupying engineering and the habitable wing of the sub-deck.

"Do not put this body with the rest," Mordin told Legion. "Do not want the factor of a vacuum destroying possible vital evidence we can obtain from it."

"We can't just leave her out in the open," Garrus said. "If a colonist comes by and sees this…"

"Then don't allow them to bear witness," Mordin said immediately after.

Breaking the stiffness of their conversation, Garrus' hailer chimes off. The Turian dreaded that the call was from Tali regarding another dead colonist. A chill swept through his body when he clicked the answer button.

"Tali, this better not—"

_"Garrus, I need to speak with Mordin immediately," _the call was from Miranda. "_Is he with you?"_

"Yeah, he can hear you."

"_Something isn't right about the colonist,"_ the human woman said getting straight to the point. _"I've just heard you retrieved another corpse from medical?"_

"Yeah," Garrus grumbled, "we're lookin' right at it."

"_Good, you didn't store it along with the rest. Get Mordin on evaluating the dead, I don't think these deaths are coincidental."_

"Ya don't say…?" Garrus said almost mockingly.

"_Just get on it,"_ came Miranda's tired tone. _"And be discreet about it. I don't want any of the colonists knowing what's going on."_

"I'm already on the matter, Ms. Lawson—and I seemed to have emanated on—"

_"Less talking, more working." _Miranda said, cutting the Salarian off from his usual lip dribbling. "_It's hard enough to breathe in here as it is. Don't need to make it any worse."_

Garrus picked up on her exhausted tone. He knew how sensitive Humans are to thin oxygen levels. Him being a Turian, he barely noticed at all of the progressive decline of breathable air onboard the ship. But within hours, he'll soon be feeling it very much.

_"_Aye Miranda, if you aren't feeling so good, maybe you should—"

_"I'll be fine," _she came back defensively. _"Just do your jobs… and keep your hailer on. I need to bring this to Shepard—Lawson out."_

Miranda's hailer switched to standby mode, ending the conversation and leaving Garrus, Mordin and Legion in a brief silence.

* * *

"…And, breathe out," Karin instructed one of her patients in medical as she pulled the needle out the patient's arm. She had just extracted a vial of the patient's blood. "Okay," she sighed turning to face the counter behind her. She added the glass vial to the other blood samples nested in a test-tube holder. She then snatched off her elastic gloves and quickly disposes them. Turning back around to her patient, Karin plastered a smile. "That wasn't so bad now was it?" She asked the patient, sitting up in the sickbed.

The patient, of which Karin would later identify as Gabriella Daniels, was one of the systems engineers that served onboard the _SR-2. _

"I always hated needles," Gabriella said while massaging a hand across the bandaged covering the small prick the needle made.

"Yes well, you did just fine, my dear." Karin assured her. "Better than most."

Karin turned her back to Gabriella once more, and proceeded to write the engineer's name upon a labeler. She then stuck it onto the respected blood vial.

"If I may ask, doctor Chakwas," Gabriella began to say. "Why are you taking people's blood?"

It was a question Karin wasn't prepared to answer. She was informed by Lawson, that everyone who were captured by the Collectors—including Karin herself, were at risk of some strange pathogen that has killed twenty people thus far. Though, she couldn't tell Gabriella that, of course. So she had to cook up something that sounded reasonable enough.

She twirled around to face Gabriella, still pondering on what to say "we're… taking precautions," she began, "the Collectors had you all in these vats. There's no telling what they did to your bodies at that time. For the most part, there haven't been any drastic issues regarding everyone's health—but we're just monitoring everyone's vitals to be on the safe side."

With a little mix of truth, Karin felt a bit at ease with her cover story. The less her patients knew what was really going on, the better.

"So was there anything that stuck out?" Gabriella questioned. "Anything odd that you came across?"

Karin shook her head and maintained a neutral look. "Shouldn't be nothing to worry about. Though I do advice that you remain in your bed, you may feel a bit lightheaded, yes?"

Gabriella held a hand to her forehead, "I do feel a bit woozy."

"Completely normal, given the circumstances," Karin told her. "Now rest, Ms. Daniels. It'll be a while until your strength returns."

The engineer lied back in her cot and eased her eyes close. At that moment, Karin exhaled a sigh, easing the tightness that developed in her stomach. Her eyes ran across the dozens of patients resting in their cots in the med-bay. One of the medics was making rounds checking up on them. It gave Karin an excuse to leaving out into the galley where more wounded were placed.

Exiting the med-bay, Karin looked out across the sea of people lying on the ground. Across the galley space, she saw the Commander conversing with Miranda and Jacob. They were too far from earshot, though Karin believed Miranda was getting the two up to speed as to what was going on. Before soon, she watched the three depart, where Shepard stopped and looked around as if searching for something. The Commander then looked down and approached someone lying on a stretcher on the floor. Karin watched him for a while, now talking with this person. Karin didn't pay it any mind, until she found herself walking in the Commander's direction. That's when she made out who Shepard was talking with, Zaeed.

As she got near the talking pair, she saw the extensive bead of sweat dotting Zaeed's forehead. He was one of the most severe of the wounded. It's been a while since Karin checked up on the man during her rounds. She guessed it wouldn't hurt to evaluate him.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Massani?" Karin asked knelling down near Zaeed.

"Like a ray of sunshine," the wounded man grunted out.

Karin observed Zaeed's vitals under the care of her Omi-tool. She discovered that he was in stable condition.

"He's stabilizing, Commander," Karin said to Shepard. "Be on your way, I'll watch over him."

Shepard gave her a brisk nod, then walked off, regrouping with Jacob and Miranda before the three turned the corner heading towards the elevator.

"So when are you… gonna start being real with me?" Zaeed began to say to Karin.

"What are you talking about?" Karin asked dismissively.

"Don't be coy with me, doc," Zaeed spat out. "I'm not dead yet. And me lyin' down here doesn't hinder my eyesight one bit." He painfully turned on his side, so that his entire body is facing Karin's direction. "I saw you… talkin' with Lawson. And I know… whenever that woman has something to say… it ain't neva 'bout anything gud."

Karin gave him a skeptical look, deactivating her Omi-tool. "She just wanted blood samples of the colonists and _Normandy _crewmembers that were taken by the Collectors."

"Bull. Shyt." Zaeed heaved out. "I saw you pull those stiffs outta medical…"

Karin's felt her eye twitch, a silent indicator all Zaeed needed to know the truth behind what was really going on.

A drowsy grin formed on the man's now reddish turning face, "we're fucked… aren't we? There's no saving this ship—the damn… Collectors or whateva made sure of dat when we blew their fokin' home to smithereens!" He coughed repeatedly, falling flat upon his back again.

Karin drew a clean rag from her pocket and patted it across Zaeed's moist forehead.

"You're dehydrated," Karin remarked. She took a quick glance to find any of her staff members nearby.

"Don't need no… wata…" said Zaeed between coughs.

Karin rolled her eyes, "oh shut up already! You're not dead, remember? It's time you've started listening to your own words for a change."

The commotion brought Tali over to their side. "What's the matter with him?" Asked the Quarian in a worrisome tone.

"He needs water," Karin said, keeping Zaeed's head prompt up with her hand. A side effect of a large quantity of medi-gel being administered to a single patient, often made blood cells permeable. In other words, the water drains right out the person's body. In Zaeed's case, he needed water fast, or his condition will steadily decline.

"The canteen is all but empty," Tali stuttered. "We're clean out—and… I-I don't think…"

"Go check storage—hurry!" Karin ordered her.

The Quarian took off in a dash. Karin remained by Zaeed's side, watching his face turn a sickly blue.

* * *

In a scramble, Tali searched the near empty storage room for anything that could help Zaeed. It was futile, since she knew there was absolutely nothing of value left.

"This is hopeless," Tali sighed to herself.

As she was turning to leave out, Tali was startled by a lone figure which stood leaning against the doorjamb directly in her path. It'll later be verified that the person may have been Kasumi Goto, a handpicked operative of the Lazarus Cell.

"I hate when you do that," Tali said to the short, Human woman of which possessed skilled on coming up on people when they least expect.

Kasumi gave Tali a small grin from behind the cloak of her hood, and didn't say a word after that.

Tali rolled her eyes and brushed her way pass the woman. That's when she felt Kasumi's hand grasping her arm preventing her from walking away. "Looking for these?" The stealthy Human brandished two pairs of half-filled water bottles in her other hand.

"Where'd you get that?" Tali asked, now facing Kasumi.

"It's surprising what a broken ship can provide," the woman suddenly tossed a bottle for Tali to catch. Tali clumsily caught the bottle with both hands and clutched it close to her breastplate. "I wouldn't drink that right away, of course," Kasumi warned. "It's full of icky contaminates, seeing that it came from the runoff of the busted air circulation system. You'll have to filter it somehow before any of the colonists' lips suck at it."

"Why didn't you just bring it to the med-clinic yourself?" Tali questioned.

Kasumi's gaze fell a bit. It was hard for Tali to read this woman's body language, since she was pretty much stoic and often distanced herself from the rest of the group. Much like a female version of Zaeed, minus the recklessness.

Kasumi handed Tali the other bottle, "you best hurry with that. I think _someone_ definitely needs it."

Before Tali could say another word, Kasumi had gone down the corridor. Tali lingered for a moment, reflecting on Kasumi's odd behavior. She then realized that Kasumi was right, she had water, now it was time to help Zaeed and others who needed it. As she was making her way back down the corridor, she caught herself from a near fall into the wall. The constant hum of the mass effect core winded down before being all but silent.

* * *

Thane's eyes flashed open and the Drell's senses peaked. "We've stopped," he muttered.

"Good!" The hulking Krogan in his company bellowed. "Hopefully that means we'll be landing soon. Tired of being trapped on this forsaken ship."

"Agreed," Thane replied.

He and Grunt took up residency in the sub-deck, along with twenty or so colonists that were in somewhat good condition. Thane was more or less calm since the end of the Collector base assault. He was very aware of the thinning atmospherics onboard the vessel, so he had shortened his breath intake and kept dialogue at a minimum. Conserving energy was key, and nobody liked being trapped onboard a failing space vessel for almost three days.

So Thane remained below deck, laying on the floor, back against the wall, staring out through the low lighting of the deck. There wasn't anything to see besides a web of piping that snaked through the entire deck. Grunt continued to sulk back and fro, impatient to touch ground.

* * *

_"Commander, you have to see this…"_

Joker's words echoed in Shepard's ears as he, Miranda, Jacob, Jack and Samara rode the lift up to the CIC. They've only been FTL for no more than an hour and all of a sudden they've stopped. Something was right.

Shepard stepped out as soon as the doors parted ways and marched onto the deck making a beeline towards the pilot.

"Joker, what the hell's going on?" Shepard demanded to know.

The pilot held out on a reply, and Shepard and company will soon discover what had Joker occupied.

Shepard's attention was brought to the holographic display, showcasing a scaled module of a ship with the wording _USG Excalibur _below it.

"What's happening, Joker?" Shepard asked standing beside the pilot's chair.

"Just… listen to this…" Joker pressed a nearby button which began a crummy transmission. A frightened voice came through over the loud speaker.

_"…any vessels in close proximity. This is the _USG Excalibur, _unknown hostiles have taken over our vessel. They're picking us off one by one… I don't think… we need help—I repeat we need immediate assista—"_

The transmission abruptly ended, leaving Shepard along with his comrades in a state of silence.

"The fuck was that?" Jack's voice severed the quiet

"An SOS," Joker replied. "It's been on a continuous loop for over five hours. The ship's long range transmission arrays managed to intercept the frequency right when we jumped into FTL. I tracked down the message's origin and plotted a course for it."

"You made course corrections without notifying me first?" Shepard questioned.

Joker swirled around in his chair facing the Commander, "look, I'm sorry, okay. But I did my homework on this one." The pilot went back around facing the consol. His hand went to touch the holographic image displaying the _USG Excalibur _where a stream of written data scrolled the length of the dashboard. "While we were FTL, I ran an assessment analysis check on the ship," Joker began to explain. "Commander, all their essential onboard utilities areoperating at peak capacity. To be honest, sir, I've never seen a ship in such top-notch condition, a cargo craft at that."

"And your point is…?" Miranda urged on.

"Check this out," Joker expanded the readings of the _Excalibur's_ life support systems. "I did the math...both the _Normandy _and this ship's life support systems are compatible. All we have to do is run a coupling line from one ship to the other… swap out the bad air we're currently suckin' in, and bam!" Joker clapped his hands together for emphasis, "we can restore our atmospherics, and then EDI can come off the hamster wheel that's keeping the lights on and we'll be good to go."

Shepard had to admit, Joker had outdone himself with this one, in a good way that is. He meant well, but Shepard saw too many faults in this plan.

"What about these hostiles that boarded their ship?" Jacob asked.

Joker shrugged, "who knows…pirates, slavers—I mean, it's the Terminus systems after all."

"This is all very informal," Miranda began to say, unenthusiastically, "but we couldn't help them anyway. We're ill-equipped and we have problems of our own to attend to."

"Okay," Joker heaved. "Sure, we're screwed, but that doesn't mean we get to pass this up. I mean, they could have supplies—of which I know we're running out of. And their life support is like a bucking bronco. I mean, we tap into that that bad-boy… shiiiit, we'll have restored the _Normandy's _life support tenfold…"

"We can't," Shepard declared, interrupting Joker. "We can't… help them." It pained Shepard to say that, but it was the truth.

Joker swiveled around in his seat, his eyes darted across each of their faces. "Okay, someone tell me what's going on?"

"There's an aggressive infection spreading throughout ship," Miranda spoke up when no one else did. "It's killed twenty people thus far, and we believe everyone might be infected."

Joker sat froze for a moment and his face went pale behind the shadow of his hat.

Miranda continued, after taking a sigh, "it may also be airborne. Even if we could, by some miracle board that ship… kill whomever had taken it over and rescued the occupants… we'll had infected them all with this pathogen."

Joker's lip quivered before speaking, "so this virus, or whatever—it only infects organics, right?" His eyes shifted to Shepard looking for some input. "We could send Legion in to help them out—he's inorganic, he'll…"

"Yeah, great idea…" Jack mocked. "Send the Geth…"

"Okay, that was a little dumb," Joker admitted with a scrounged face. "But I don't see anyone else coming up with any ideas! So what—we're just gonna leave them hangin'?"

"Joker, we have no other choice," Shepard said to him. "There are too many things that can go wrong and I don't want to risk adding more fuel to the fire."

Joker sighed, taking his hat off his head and scratched at his hair. "Thought this was a win—win for all of us. Sure as hell was better than limpin' it all the way to the Sowilo System."

"Wait, what?" Miranda recalled. "The Sowilo System?"

"I gave Joker an order to plot a course for that star system," Shepard explained narrowly.

Miranda gave him a narrow eyed stare.

"It was before I knew there was a killer virus on the loose," Shepard added.

"Well we can't board the ship, without getting everyone infected," Joker began to say taking count on his fingers. "And we can't revamp our atmospherics… without getting everyone infected. Well that only leaves us with the most obvious choice… we wing it all the way to the Sowilo System and hope we don't all pass out and die by the time we make it there."

"That's not going to happen either," Miranda stated. Her tone taking on a darker matter that makes everyone look to her questionably. Miranda was a hardass, that everyone knew, but this sounded and felt different from her normal behavior.

"This vessel isn't moving an inch," she went on, easing back on her tone just a bit. "Not until we receive confirmation from Mordin's analysis."

"And how long will that take, Miranda?" Jacob asked, stepping up to the woman. "Remember, before we hit Horizon… it took him an entire week in figuring out how to counter the Collector's tailored weaponry. We don't got a week this time. Our best bet will be what the Commander and Joker said. We get to the Sowilo System and figure it out from there."

"Finally!" Jack exclaimed. "Best goddamn thing I've heard all day."

Jacob's words seemed to have reached Miranda, for her harden body language had relaxed. Shepard took that moment to turn to Joker and said, "reset coordinates for the Sowilo System. Vamp the mass effect core for maximum output. Let's just hope she'll hold together. "

Joker shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "aye—aye Commander," he muttered. "What about the cargo ship?"

Shepard gave it some thought, but before he could say anything, the unexpected happened.

Miranda pounced onto Joker, wrapping a hand around the pilot's throat. It all happened in the blink of an eye.

"Back away!" She spat at Shepard. "All of you—get back!"

"Miranda!" Jacob bellowed.

"Don't take another step, Jacob," she warned, keeping an iron grip on Joker's neck. "Or I will kill him."

"She's lost her fuckin' mind!" Exclaimed Jack, shimmering her biotic abilities. Samara soon joined her.

"No—No, stand down!" Shepard shouted to them. "Jack—Samara stow it…"

"Not till _princess _does first," Jack said, flaming electric blue.

"And she will," Shepard said in a stamper matching the acceleration of his heart thumping hard in his chest. "But we'll all be no good if any of you set off a biotic grenade in here! Now, ease up."

Finally, listening to the Commander, Jack and Samara decelerate on their abilities. Shepard didn't have time to relax, he turned to face Miranda just a few seconds away from killing Joker; the lifeline to the _Normandy _and everyone onboard.

"Now I don't know how we stooped this low," Shepard began to say, raising his hands in a nonthreatening matter. "But the Miranda I know wouldn't do something like this. The Miranda _we _know," he nodded over to Jacob, Jack and Samara to his right standing by the airlocks. "Would find an alternative solution to guarantee the safety of her crew." Shepard attempted to take a step forward, in which Miranda responded by digging her thumb into Joker's Adams apple. The pilot gargled in pain, the veins in his head began to show.

Taking the hint, Shepard stepped back, keeping his arms raised and a calm demeanor, "alright—alright. You're in control…" Shepard coaxed.

"You move again—any of you…" Miranda graveled, her eyes bulging with malic. "I won't tell you again."

"We know, Miranda," Shepard said. "We're on your side… no one's against you here. Now, if you just let Joker go… then we can come up with a plan on which we all get to move on from this together."

Shepard watched her expression carefully. Her once, enraged behavior takes on one of bewilderment, but it only lasted a moment. "We aren't moving this ship," she made finale. "Can't risk spreading whatever this shit is we've contracted from the Collectors across the galaxy. Our lives are worth the risk rather than a hundred billion."

"And you're right," Samara spoke up in her usual low, soothing tone as if they were discussing the weather. "Ever since I joined the crew of the _Normandy, _I've come to notice that each and every lifeform onboard this vessel were willing to make sacrifices for others. _Did _make sacrifices. Such an act of valor restored my faith in organic life. And maybe the aggressive aliens we'd done battle with did somehow deliberately infected us with a terminal pathogen to spread amongst the populations of our many people; maybe we should give our lives so that others may live."

"Please tell me you're fuckin' joking?" Jack asked chillingly, reflecting Shepard's exact thoughts.

"However," Samara continued. "I'm not so haste in meeting my demise when there may be ways in delaying it. We made it this far together. And if the Goddess wanted us earlier on our journey… She wouldn't had hesitated in claiming us."

"And there _is_ a way we all get what we want out of this," Shepard said to Miranda, tailing on the end of Samara's words. "We vector to the Sowilo System…we request that the _Normandy _be quarantined in a docking birth on land, that way we get to cycle in clean, fresh air and Mordin will have all the time in the universe to figure out what exactly the Collectors did to the colonists. But we won't be able to do any of that if you kill Joker, Miranda. He's the only shot we got in getting through this thing alive. We didn't come this far only for the Collectors to beat us."

A wave of uncertainty came over Shepard. He felt his blood chill waiting for Miranda to release her death grip around Joker's windpipe. Miranda's tense look began to mellow out and before soon, she finally lets go of Joker all together.

The pilot inhaled a gulp of air then flopped back in his chair panting heavily. Miranda hastily left the scene, starting down the dim lit CIC. Jacob attempted to follow her, though soon changed his mind and instead went to check on Joker.

"I'm good," the pilot gasped out, rubbing a hand down the length of his throat. "I'm straight."

"You sure?" Shepard double checked.

Joker nodded his head, clearing his throat, he added, "I can… I can still fly this ship… Commander."

Shepard patted the pilot on the shoulder, "alright then," he said, exhaling a tense breath. "Then get us out of here, Joker."

Joker blinked the tears from his red, puffy eyes then proceeded to typed away at the controls, prepping the _Normandy_ to jump into FTL. Pushing down on the throttle handle, the mass effect core zinged with force. The familiar tremoring of the floor plating returned… and then, it all but folds back into silence.

"Not… good," Joker hoarse voice cracked.

"What the hell is it now?" Jack groaned out.

"Think we… over stimulated the… mass effect core," Joker panted. "Not… goin' anywhere… till we… restart the drive core."

"Shit…" Jack shimmered a laugh, slapping a palm to her face. "If it ain't one damn thing it's another."

"Relax," Shepard told her. "It's a quick fix. All we have to do is flip a switch and the core'll spit right back to life. Only thing is... it needs an engineer's touch."

"Bullshit!" Jack spat. "If all we have to do is flip a switch than anyone of us can do that."

Shepard sighed, dropping his head.

"He was speaking figurative, Jack," Jacob said, speaking for Shepard. "Truth is, we'll have to reconfigure the ignition sequences. One false move, and the system could collapses on itself… vaporizing anyone in the engine room."

"Oh," Jack chirped.

"Engineers Donnelly and Daniels are currently recovering in the medical clinic," Samara informed.

"Yeah, assuming they weren't the victims of this outbreak," Shepard said. The Commander sighed, he hated allowing his pessimistic side to dominate his view, especially in these series of unfortunate circumstances. "Only one way to find out…" About the time he went for his hailer to the contact medical, the power suddenly cuts off, casting the CIC in total darkness.


	5. Five

**Five :::**

**The Return: Part III**

* * *

**A/N: Okay, before I get flamed… MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS in this chapter. Just to let you know… before we dive in.**

* * *

"Perfect…" Garrus may have graveled in relation to the total darkness of deck four. A moment later, the emergency power kicked into gear, dimly lighting the corridor. "Ship's failing with each passing moment," he said to Legion and Mordin in his company. The Salarian, now geared up in an enclosed environmental suit. The three stood by the inner airlock door that lead to the decompressed hanger bay.

"Airlock door looks to still be functional," Garrus said consulting the holographic keypad illuminating the low lighting in a neon glow. The Turian turned to face Mordin, who was making last minute preparations to his flexible environmental suit. "Ya sure you still wanna go through with this, Mordin?" He questioned the Salarian. "Powers blowing out and there's no telling if the airlock door would still be working…"

"No need for apprehension." Mordin had said, fastening the lock to his gloved hand. "Need to study cadavers… imperative it is for survivor of _Normandy _crew."

Garrus shrugged, "thirty minutes… collect your samples from the bodies then come back."

Mordin flashed the Turian a plain smile from behind the visor of his helmet. The Salarian then bobbed his head that he understood.

"Do not burden, Turian ally," Legion assumed. "Monitoring Salarian ally's vitals, I will be."

Garrus touched Legion's shoulder, "of course you will."

* * *

"Can't see anything down here!" Grunt shouted through the pitch blackness of the sub decking.

"Power's out," Thane contemplated, "ship status worsening…"

Breaking the Drell's deep thought, a bloodcurdling scream stung his ears…

* * *

"Doctor, wuts goin' on?" Kenneth asked Chakwas as she was passing his cot. The med-bay's emergency lights were active though otherwise useless in providing enough for him to see.

"Just remain where you are, Mr Donnelly," Chakwas instructed him as she passed on by. Just then, in the corner of Kenneth's eye, he sees someone suddenly collapses to the floor…

* * *

Mordin felt the clunk of the airlock door behind him close shut. The vacuum that occupied the hanger nipped at the visor of his environmental apparatus. He made his way across the hanger bay floor, to the location of which Legion positioned the unfortunate colonists who succumbed to this spreading pathogen. He wasn't interested in obtaining any blood samples, seeing that the vacuum may have destroyed it anyway. Mordin was more invested on discovering more of this strange bio tissue that clings to the victim's skin post-mortem.

He and the Geth arrived at the far end side of the hanger… where Mordin was shocked beyond belief. The line of cots lied vacant, empty of corpses…

* * *

Zaeed erected his head off the cot. Sudden screams and intense mummers filled his ears, for he couldn't really see in the near darkness of the galley. His attention gravitates towards the entryway of the med-bay where he sees Chakwas along with another staff hand lifting a limp body onto a nearby gurney. Zaeed watched as the other medic preforms CPR on the unresponsive person. And then, Zaeed felt his heart skip a beat as to what happened next…

* * *

Garrus shook after being startled by a high-pitch scream erupting from down the corridor. The Turian turned his attention away from the airlock controls to look down the hall where he saw a light haired, Human girl running the length of the corridor, screaming her lungs out. She was beyond terrified.

The girl ran into Garrus' body, clinging onto him like a feline.

"T-there's s-something happening downstairs!" The Human girl shrieked.

"Wait—calm down," Garrus nudges the girl off him. "Now what is…?" The Turian's sentence falls short when he saw the haunting look magnify across the girl's face. She then lets out a deafening scream backing away from Garrus pointing and shouting, "BEHIND YOU—BEHIND YOU!"

Garrus pivoted around only to come face to face with a multiple limbed creature emerging from the shadows. "AH!" The Turian grabbed hold of the tentacle like arms as they nearly wrapped themselves around him. The fleshy appendages proved to be far stronger than Garrus, thus tossing and thrashing the Turian into the walls of the corridor. A shirking grumble reverberates from the creature behind the control of these arms.

Gaining an advantage in the scuffle, Garrus managed to force himself free from the creature's grip and stumbled back. He positioned himself between it and the frightened human child. Coming through the darkness, the fullness of the creature revealed itself. And the Turian's blood ran cold when his eyes connected on a grotesque, humanoid figure with multiple twisted limbs branching off from its body. What startled Garrus even more was that this creature shared a resemblance of the latest corpse he had gathered.

"What in the Spirits…"

* * *

Kenneth couldn't see what was going on, but the mass of sudden screams filled his heart with terror. Through the darkness of the med-bay, Kenneth saw the person that the doctors were preforming CPR on beginning to convulse. Soon after, from his account, a pair of tentacles burst from this person's chest. He watched in terror as the tentacles reached out and impaled people that were nearby. He couldn't tell at the time, but he may have witnessed doctor Chakwas taking a hit and fall to the floor.

It didn't end there. Kenneth steered his eyes to his left, where, in the adjacent cot, there was another person convulsing like crazy. Kenneth was petrified—unable to move when he saw this person beginning to transform into something he couldn't possibly imagine.

"Oh my Gud…!" He whimpered.

* * *

Zaeed saw it all happen. He had no clue what the hell was going on, and he didn't want to linger around to find out. Tried as he might, Zaeed struggled to rise out his cot, but the pain from his battle wound struck him back down. The wind knocked out of him, he tried again, only this time, he gets the shock of his life when a mangled, half torso of what belonged to one of the colonists, pounced onto him from seemingly out of nowhere. Zaeed caught this… _thing_ just in time, right before it nearly bit a chunk out of his neck. It hissed into Zaeed's face, clinching its teeth closer and closer near his flesh. Zaeed was losing strength in his arms and this creature was winning the battle. His arms give out altogether and this thing crashes down upon him. At the last possible moment, Zaeed grabbed hold of this creature's talons that jutted form its face. As hard as he could, he torqued the talons sharply to the left, snapping the disfigured head from its neck. Even still, the thing kept coming.

"Fokin' die already!" Zaeed shouted at it.

His body went off sheer adrenaline. Zaeed finally was able to throw the torso off top him and then he hurried and turned off the cot altogether. In a scramble, he crawled away not wasting a second in staying where he was at. He ignored the wails of terror assaulting his ears from every direction and just kept crawling.

* * *

Sheer terror fired into Kenneth, for he was just an arm's reach away from another one of those things spawning in his wake. The colonist's body finishes transforms into a surreal mangled mess of tentacles and other twisted extremities.

Kenneth fell off his gurney and hit the floor with a thud. He immediately crawled under the adjacent cot's support struts to his right and stayed glued to the floor. All he could hear were panic screams from all around him, but his panic state prevented him from stopping.

He makes out the open exit way that leads out of medical and continued to inch his way in that direction. His path is suddenly blocked when a dead body fell right in his way. Kenneth suppressed a yelp as he starred into the dead man's widen eyes: his throat, having been slashed and the blood continued to squirt out, spewing all over Kenneth's face.

Kenneth wiped the blood out of his eyes then worked his way around the corpse. At this point, the frightened _SR-2 _Engineer crawled his way across the floor of the med-bay. Somehow, he found his way to the entryway and out into the galley, where he saw three or more of those things.

The injured or otherwise helpless colonists laying out on their cots marked across the galley floor were fish in a barrel to what Kenneth could best describe as half-people with protruding fangs. It was a freak show that found its way onboard the _Normandy._

In his moment of complete terror, Kenneth had all but frozen in step, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing—what his ears were hearing.

"Aoh!"

Kenneth felt his feet below him slip right off the floor, and soon he lands hard upon his ribs on the ground. A tremendous pain shot up his leg following a numbness that snaked up from his ankle and resonated down his spine. That's when he felt himself being dragged back into the chaos of the med-bay.

Looking back at his leg, Kenneth saw what had flesh-eating grip around his ankle. A bulging, tentecale like arm with barbs poking out of it like a cactus held him hostage and yanked him back with tremendous strength. He caught onto the side of the doorjamb with both hands, gripping the surface with just the tips of his fingers. The tentacle wasn't giving up, Kenneth felt its sharpen barbs dig deeper into his flesh and then another jolting yank that felt like the thing had ripped his leg off altogether.

Kenneth's grip becomes slippery, with the tip of his fingers bleeding from hanging on for so long and with all his strength could muster. But he knew it wouldn't be enough, and this…_whatever _it was supposed to be was going to kill him.

Just when it felt like Kenneth was done for, he felt the barbs of the tentacle contract and soon the arm itself had loosed its grip enough for him to pull himself free. Kenneth scrambled away, turning his head back to see the person who saved his life.

His gaze flew up to a familiar face of a woman, stomping down on the tentacle arm until it was nothing but puss on the floor. His memory drew blank in identifying who this woman was, but it will be alleged that it was fellow engineer, Gabriella Daniels.

A splatter from the matter of the smashed up tentacle squirts onto Kenneth's face, who remained stunned on the floor. His mind, cloudy with nothing but fear and shock hadn't notices that Gabriella, or as he referred to her as Gabby, was knelled down eyelevel with him trying to say something to him in an urgent matter. It isn't until the noise of his blood swishing loudly in his ears and his attention returns from its state of shellshock is when he was able to make out what she was saying.

"…Come on, can you stand?"

"Y-yea—I—I think… I can stand," Kenneth's shaken voice returned.

"We need to get outta here, now,"

Kenneth looked beyond Gabby, in the med-bay. From what he could tell, there's no way anyone could survive in there—or anywhere at that matter. But it beat laying on the floor waiting to die.

Kenneth wiped a sleeve across his mucked face then stood to his feet. The pain in his ankle shot up his spine, but was numbed by the adrenaline that flowed through him at the moment. He and Gabby then made their way through the galley, now dominated with the screams of those unlucky enough to be coughed by those crawling things that quickly hope on to one victim to the other.

Kenneth limped behind Gabby, the two stayed close to the walls, trying their best to remain unnoticed by the crawlers. It wasn't hard, those things were way too occupied with the colonists, there free meal. Kenneth didn't feel the least bit of shame during that time, for his mind and body were suspended in a constricting state of fear.

Doing his best to tune out the surreal horror in his proximity, Kenneth kept his eyes trained on Gabby's back. The pair had made it across the galley space and were nearing the mouth of the short corridor leading to the elevator. That's when Kenneth felt a strong grip nipping at his injured ankle, and it froze him in place.

* * *

"Don't jus' stand there you nitwit!" Zaeed shouted at the startled man starring down at him on the floor. "Fokin' help me up!"

The clearly frighten crewman gets his act together and took Zaeed's extended arm and lifted the man to his feet. A shot of stinging hot pain flushed down Zaeed's body, especially from his bandaged up shrapnel wound. Though his will to survive whatever the hell was happening onboard the _Normandy _made the pain subtle at best.

Zaeed wrapped an arm around the man's shoulder, who supported him to stand. He didn't like to be catered for, but even he had to admit that he wasn't going to move on his own. Well not fast enough, that was.

The red headed woman this guy was following was ahead of them now, frantically hitting the button for the lift to arrive. By the time Zaeed and the guy make it halfway down the corridor, the lift doors part ways.

"Hurry!" The woman urged them on, now standing in the lift, holding the door for them.

Zaeed and the guy quickened their step, though both were limping like they didn't have feet at all. Their journey to the lift felt like trudging through wet cement, though, by sheer chance and grit, they made it inside the lift.

Both the guy and Zaeed collapse to the floor while the redhead hits the button closing the door to the elevator. Just when the two sides of the doors were joining back together, a large boney talon jutted between the slight opening of the doors and pried them back open.

The redhead yelped in terror backing against the opposite wall of the lift, tripping over Zaeed's legs and falling to the floor with the rest of them. The lift was still operational, moving upwards by the time the thing of which this talon belong to was still relentlessly trying to get at them.

Zaeed's eyes widen at the sight of a sickly Human figure as the one behind the control of these protruding talon like arms. It was nothing like he's ever seen…and he's seen some fucked up shit.

"The fuck is this thing!?" The redhead whimpered, kicking away from the nabbing talons of this monstrosity. It managed to get half its body into the lift cart and it just kept coming.

"Fuck if I know!" Zaeed grunted back. He swung his booted foot hard for the creature's head, knocking it sideways and away from him and his companions. The momentum of the creature's body made it slide back through the proceeding narrowing gap of the lift gate. Before it had time to opt out, the rising elevator severed the creature's head with a sickening, fleshy crunch.

A much needed moment of relief flushed over Zaeed as the elevator continued its climb.

* * *

Shepard tried with no avail to contact any active crewmates below deck. His hailer screamed of static; apparently being blocked by some form of interference.

"Core power is all but gone," Jacob reported through the near darkness of the cockpit. The CIC was plunged in blackness, the only thing making visibility possible are the many holographic monitors that have remained active. "Emergency power is active though," Jacob went on.

"What about life support and medical?" Shepard asked coming over, standing shoulder to Jacob from behind Joker's seat.

"Still kicking, considering the state we're in," Jacob replied.

"Just another power outage, right?" Jack asked.

Shepard turned to face her, he then gave her a simple nod. Though, somehow, Shepard knew the critical state the _Normandy_ was in. Outages are pretty harmless, that would be the case if eighty-five percent of the ship wasn't damaged and especially if the mass effect core hadn't went dormant. And to add salt to injury, they were still stranded near a doomed vessel that was occupied by an unknown force.

"I still can't hail anyone from below deck," Shepard said coming over towards Jack and Samara. "We need to make sure everything's in order down there before—"

Cutting the Commander's sentence short, his attention is brought to the far end of the CIC where he heard multiple voices speaking in a frantic tone. Brushing pass Jack and Samara, Shepard approached three people striding their way into the CIC before one keels over and falls to the floor.

"Zaeed?" Shepard uttered at the man gathering himself on the floor. He darts his gaze to the other man and woman in his company and identified them as Kenneth Donnelly and Gabriella Daniels. Yet, there was something total wrong with them, Shepard could literally see the terror etched into their faces. "What happened?" The Commander questioned.

Too stunned to use their words, all Donnelly and Daniels could do was shake their heads. It was Zaeed who spoke, as he recovered up off the floor.

"We got some… shit onboard the ship, Shepard," Zaeed grunted, steadying himself to stand. He pressed a hand over his bandaged side.

Matching the man's eyes, Shepard could see that same look in Zaeed. He never seen this man be fazed by anything.

"Now… I dunno what the fuck it is… but it's the colonists." He shook his head, "they just… I don't fokin' know—transformed into some fucked up shit!"

"Transformed?" Samara recalled coming over.

"Yeah—I guess," Zaeed shrugged. "Barely got the hell outta there—the crew deck is crawling with those things."

Shepard, still dumbfounded with the details Zaeed was trying to convey held his arm out to stop the man from speaking. "Crawling with what _things_?" The Commander asked.

"The fuck…" Jack's voice broke the spell of their conversation, bringing everyone's attention to the open lift doors.

Jack is joined by Miranda, who abandoned her spot of sulking to see what held Jack's attention. Shepard was too far to see what either of them were looking at, but it won't be for long when he finds out.

"Is that…" Miranda began to say in a disgusting tone. "A… _head_?"

"Uh-huh…" Zaeed replied. "And you should see what it belonged to."

Just then, Shepard's hailer sprung to life, full of a crummy static, but he was just able to make out a voice on the other end…

* * *

It was utter chaos on sub deck for all Thane could describe it as. Through the plunge darkness, Thane didn't see—rather heard and felt the erratic behavior of a cluster of aggressive beings in his immediate area. He felt the life force of the colonists was weak and the screams had all but been replaced with roars and disjointed gargling of something wasn't entirely sentient.

He felt his heart jerk with intimate danger. Following his sharpen wits, Thane dips sharply to his right—he felt the wind of a protruding object that missed his head by mere inches. It smelt of death—these creatures that now dominate his area.

Thane felt the creatures on him again, this time he leaped between a network of piping in which the beings couldn't pursue him. He did, however felt the sharp end of a barb sticking him in the shoulder. Thane grunted, patching a hand on his now bleeding shoulder before retreating deeper into piping. At his heels, he felt one of these unseen creates pinching at him. The urge to panic ravaged his mind, though Thane grounded himself to remain calm, despite knowing the fact that most of the colonists are dead.

Though the madness that now plagues Thane form all directions, he was able to get a sense of where the Krogan is at. And the hulking alien was near—judging from the sounds of the Krogan's massive fist smashing against organic matter.

He was fighting back. Apparently, the Krogan had a better chance on taking these things on than Thane had.

With the limited space, Thane did his best to elude the intimate threat bearing on him. But his luck soon runs out when he ultimately losing his footing, falling hard against the floor and hitting his head on a section of low laying piping.

The blow to his cranium leaves Thane stunned. That is until he feels the creature's rancid breath against his face. Thane then feels something wet and fleshy wrap around his throat and begin squeezing with a vice like grip.

All the blood in his body rocketed into his head, almost like his skull will explode open. Gasping for breaths, Thane's arms flared wildly until his hands find a grip on the creature's squishy body. With all the strength he can muster, Thane dug his fingers into the being's skin and proceeded to literally pull it apart. Calling on all his strength, Thane felt his efforts pull off when the he felt the creature's body slip in half.

The constricting grip unloosens around his neck, granting him a chance to breathe air again. Once the adrenaline wore off, Thane noted the intense silence of the deck. He gathered himself off the floor and stood, where he felt the spiking pain of his head injury. Rubbing a hand to his head, Thane called out to the Krogan in a frail voice.

"Grunt… where are you my friend?"

Weaving his way through the piping, Thane found his way back on the walkway of the deck. His eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness enough to make out several strange body parts scattered across the floor plating. Stepping over the severed limbs, Thane stopped in his tracks when his eyes fill up with the backside of the Krogan.

"Grunt… are you… are you alright?" He asked.

The Krogan didn't answer, back still to him. Thane attempted to approach with an extended hand. That's when Grunt turned around, breathing heavily like an enraged animal. Thane matched eyes with the Krogan's luminescent eyes that speared through the darkness… and he saw something that didn't register as Grunt's normal behavior.

"Grunt—" Before Thane could react, the Krogan's huge fist smashes him square across the face.

* * *

"Get behind me!" Garrus instructed the Human girl in his care. He positioned himself in front of this monstrosity that wanted to kill them both. He had no idea how he was going to stop this thing with just his fist. Then, the Turian looked to his left and saw a slim chance of evening the odds. Garrus elbowed the breakable glass that lead to the fire extinguisher. It wasn't his ideal weapon of choice, but it better than having nothing at all.

"Let's dance… you ugly son of a bitch!" The Turian taunted.

The creature charged with a gargled roar, its sharpen tentacle like arms out stretch in front of it.

Garrus held his footing, readying the blunt end of the fire extinguisher for a devastating blow. Instead, at the last possible chance he had, Garrus inverted the extinguisher and fired off a jet of the condense substance, erasing the creature from his eyesight. To his fortunate luck, the sudden diversion stunned the beast down just enough for the Turian to step up and plummet the thing upon the head with the bottom of the extinguisher. The ferociousness of the Turian's blows actually knocks the creatures head off until it was hanging on by a thread of rotten flesh.

Thinking the crises was over, Garrus eased back on his attack, only to be surprise when the creature lashes out with two of its tentacles and scratch him across the face.

* * *

Bleeding out from the stab wound at her side, Karin lied on the floor with her back against the wall. She, along with a dozen or so cremates and colonists managed to escape the carnage of the med-bay and took shelter in the cramped A.I. core. Those things were just beyond the doorway and they were relentlessly trying to barge in. Their defanging hollers and incoherent screams flooded her ears that along with the scrape of their boney talon like appendages scraping against the metallic surface of the door.

Five people barricaded themselves against the door, preventing the creatures from sliding it open. Even with their combined strength, it wouldn't be enough to guarantee everyone's safety.

Karin struggled to retain consciousness. She took a life threating blow from whatever that thing was that busted out the chest cavity of one of the medics she tried desperately to revive. It all happened in the blink of an eye, and all she could remember was felling drained of energy, and then being dragged to the back of medical and ultimately being in the A.I. core.

Her gaze dropped and her eye lids felt like lead. She was so tied, all she wanted to do was sleep…

"No—No—no… stay with me doctor."

Karin was shook back into awareness by the Quarian. She stared into the alien's facemask, where as she saw her own reflection starring back at her. Then, Karin heard the Commander's voice, weakly dribbling through the static of the hailer on Tali's wrist.

"_…I… Can you…?"_

"No good Shepard, you're still breaking up," Tali spoke into her hailer.

"…_What's going… down there... where is… are you…?"_

"Shepard there is something down here with us," Tali told him. "It has something to do with the colonists… the Collectors did something to them—they—"

A sudden crash against the door jolts Tali out of sentence. Those things weren't giving up and they'll soon get at them. Karin knew this was only a matter of time.

* * *

The static that dominated over the hailer had cleared up just enough for Shepard to hear the pounding upon metal and disjointed screams from Tali's end. Whatever it was that made it onboard their ship was bearing down on her.

_"Doctor Chakwas is injured," _came Tali's frantic filled voice, just barely over the abundance of noise that cloaked around it. _"She's bleeding everywhere and I don't know… I don't know what to do."_

Shepard wiped a hand across his face, petrified with worry of his crewmates.

_"_J-Just stay where you are, Tali," Shepard replied. "We'll come for you."

"_We're in the A.I. core_. _I don't know how many of those things are out there but… just hurry."_

Shepard didn't waste any time lingering about. He clipped his hailer to his waist band than walked over to the door leading to the weapon's lab. He discovered, that without power, the door wasn't going to open without being commanded from the cockpit control panel.

"Joker, can you get this door open?" The Commander asked.

From afar, Joker nodded that he could and proceeded to do it. Just then, a sudden crash of a metallic object gets the Commander's attention. The ventilation cover adjacent to the elevator lies on the floor, emerging from the opening, a mutilated, humanoid creature leaped out. It released a scrappy snare catching everyone off guard.

The mutilated form had sharpen, boney appendages protruding from where its shoulders would be. Its clothes were ripped and torn, exposing its rotted, brownish skin from beneath. Shepard's gaze fell upon the creature's face, from what he could tell, there was little humanity left in it.

Shepard's heart leaped to his throat when the creature converged on him. He caught hold of the creature as it held him in a bone crushing bear hug; its fanged mouth millimeters from his neck.

The alien's strength was absolute, crushing down on Shepard and progressively getting stronger by the moment.

Gritting his teeth, Shepard grunted as he pried the alien's grip off him and manages to force it back and clear of him. At that moment, a blue shift wave of biotic energy swept the alien off its feet and sent crashing into the nearby bulkhead. Shepard's attention snapped over to Miranda, shimmering her biotic powers.

The alien attempted to stand back up, when Miranda unleashed a bombardment of biotic induced attacks that of which ultimate reduced the aggressive alien into splatter on the wall.

A brief yet heavy moment of shock overtakes Shepard as well as his comrades in the CIC. It's broken by Shepard, who managed to recover from the shock. "Joker… the door…?" He reminded.

The pilot hurried and inputted the clearance code of which granted entry to weapons research. The door slowly slid open and more of those things came pouring through the opening. Shepard vaulted away, retreating back into the CIC with the rest of his teammates.

At that point, the CIC was consumed with these aliens, barring down on Shepard and his comrades as they held their ground in the narrow walkway of the fuselage. Without wasting a moment of time, the biotic adapts present in the CIC began hitting the charging aliens with everything they had.

Shepard fought the chance to utilize his adaptive biotic powers, an ability Cerberus had integrated into his body. Each time he used his ability, it taxed the energy right out of him. So he left the task in keeping the aliens at bay to his biotic crewmates who were far more familiar with the energy field than he ever was.

Even with their added biotic advantage, the strange alien beast just kept coming at them.

"Why don't these fucking things just stay down!?" Jack exclaimed.

Shepard retreated behind Miranda, Jack and Samara as they held off the alien beings. Zaeed, the two engineers and Jacob held spots near the airlocks.

Shepard didn't know how long the three biotics could continue their onslaught on the aliens, but it felt like forever. Once it was over, the gargling screeches of the aliens and the thundering impact of biotic waves against flesh decrescendos.

"Is it over?" Engineer Daniels' asked in a trembling voice.

Shepard shook his head, "not till things are settled below deck, it isn't," Said the Commander. He walked out the cockpit and down the fuselage, now littered with body parts of the alien aggressors. He inched cautiously towards the weapon's lab entry flanked on either side by Samara and Miranda. The Commander stepped over a corpse of one of the fallen aliens near the doorway and chanced a look into the weapons lab. It was clear, from what he could tell. The laboratory itself was left untouched, almost like the aliens teleported inside. How they managed to enter the weapons lab perplexed Shepard, or how all this mess ended up on his ship altogether. Shepard put the lingering question in the back of his mind, and retained focus on the dilemma at hand.

He entered the laboratory and went over to the armaments locker that contained the ship's arsenal. One thing Shepard liked about Cerberus: at least they had weapon stashes in convenient places.

The Commander and the group outfit themselves with a variety of weapons and congregate near the powered off galaxy map. Now was the time they took back their ship. Shepard came up with a brief plan of action.

"Our first objective will be securing the occupants on crew deck," the Commander began explaining to his teammates, horseshoed around him. "Miranda—Samara… you'll accompany me in doing that."

The Asaria Justicar gave the Commander a brisk nod, while Miranda gave a halfheartedly nod of confirmation. Her body language gave off a shameful vibe, a direct result of her earlier behavior that nearly doomed them all.

"We also need to get this ship moving again," Shepard went on, bringing his attention to the two frightened systems engineers still visibly shaken up from the ordeal. "I know you're scared… but you two are the only chance we got in getting the _Normandy _space-worthy again. All you have to do is reinitiate the ignition sequencing that'll get us moving."

"I…" Daniels chokes out before continuing with, "_we_ can do that," she said looking to Donnelly at her side.

"Wut!?" Donnelly quacked, a stunned look sprawled across his face. Seeing all the eyes on him, he quickly straightens up, "I mean, uh… sure, why not," he chuckled nervously.

"Okay then," Shepard said. "Jack, you'll go along with them."

Jack shrugged, "awesome," she chirped dryly. "Now how are the three of us gonna reach engineering? Cus I don't think these things are just gonna let us stroll right in without trying to bite off our asses."

"The… maintenance tunnel," Joker said, limping over towards the group. His voice was still raspy from Miranda's chokehold. "I used it to… slip the Collectors when they boarded the ship. It'll take you straight to Engineering—you just gotta follow it to the end."

"That's right," Jacob chimed in, "the shaft snakes through each deck of the ship. You can access it from a stepladder in Mordin's lab."

Shepard nodded his head, liking the plan so far. "Alright then, everyone knows their jobs."

The team began to move out when Zaeed stopped Shepard.

"I can help too, Shepard."

"You can help yourself," Shepard countered. "By staying here in the CIC, guard Joker if any more of these aliens should show up."

Shepard attempted to walk off when Zaeed gripped the Commander's arm.

"I. Can. Help," he declared strongly, but Shepard knew the man must have been going through intense pain by the way he was slouched over in his stance and his gaze continued to slip from eye contact.

"Stay here, Massani," Shepard pulled his shoulder out the man's grasps. "And try not to die." Leaving for the elevator, Shepard also ordered Jacob to remain on the CIC to defend Joker… and to keep Zaeed from being… well, himself.

Jack, Donnelly and Daniels made their way through Mordin's lab, and Shepard, Miranda and Samara were armed and ready to face whatever lied on the deck below.

* * *

Something caught Mordin's attention in the hanger bay. He noticed the line of equipment crates that were stacked up were know knocked down. There wasn't a reason for this, and it certainly stuck out as abnormal.

Walking towards the crates, Mordin heard Legion call out his name with enough emphises that it didn't sound normal, even for a machine. Before Mordin could pivot to face the Geth, something had slashes at him from behind and severed his breathing apparatus hose to his suit. He heard the air gushing right out into the vacuum. No time to recover, Mordin is knocked away like a ragdoll and goes sliding to a stop on the hanger floor.

Dazed, fear and confusion ran through the Salarian's brain. As his suit drained of breathable air, Mordin brought his attention up to four grotesque humanoid forms converging on him. It didn't seem real at first, but they had their mind set on potentially killing him. And Mordin knew it.

Unarmed and not protected, Mordin made a dash for the air lock door where he tries to hail in Garrus which proved futile. The Turian wasn't there, which meant there was no one around to get Mordin out of this death trap of a hanger. If it wasn't the depleting oxygen levels of his suit that threaten to kill him, it were these things trapped in the hanger with him that would.

Luckily, Legion stepped in to defend Mordin against the alien threats. Whereas Mordin noted that the aliens didn't attack Legion as much as they did him.

The Geth made quick work of the multi limbed creatures, literally pulling and breaking them apart till there was nothing left but entrails.

"Salarian Ally, are you unharmed?"

"Miraculously yes," Mordin replied, "though momentarily, I will not be."

* * *

Rebounding from the gash to his face, Garrus retreats a few steps down the corridor, leading the limed creature away from the Human girl.

"That's right you ugly bastard…" the Turian may have mumbled. "Come and get me."

His words were nothing but empty bluffs. He did everything possible to kill this thing—even smashed its head off, but even that didn't do anything. Garrus came to the conclusion that he doesn't have to kill it, just keep it occupied enough till reinforcements arrive. Unknown to the Turian at the time, reinforcements were a pipedream. He couldn't call for help even if wanted with his hailer destroyed during the scuffle. There was no backing down from this fight.

Garrus was running out of options fast, literally backing down the length of the corridor with this thing relentlessly perusing. At least its attention was off the little girl, for now.

The Turian had done everything possible in trying to stop this thing, but nothing seemed to work. His body flamed with pain and agony, but he couldn't go down giving up. He had no choice but to fight to the death…

"GET DOWN!" A strong voice yelled from behind Garrus. It was from Thane, racing up the same steps the girl had used. Only this time, the Drell was trailing Grunt behind him, who was oddly enough holding a piece of machinery over his head.  
Garrus didn't hesitate to drop at the moment Grunt chucked the large piece of machinery at a fleeing Thane, who dived to the floor just in time. The piece of jagged piece of metal flew overhead and down the length of the corridor. Garrus watched as the massive object collided with the tentacle armed menace he had been fighting and crushed it to death.

"Shit. Nice toss, Grunt," the Turian chuckled picking himself up off the floor.

"I'm afraid Grunt isn't home," Thane said.

Garrus turned to face the hulking Krogan standing at the other end of the corridor. The Krogan was covered in brownish muck from top to bottom, even still, Garrus was able to see the raging intensity in the alien's eyes.

"Is it safe?" The little Human girl questioned dashing out from her hiding spot and ran to a stop next to Garrus. "Is the scary monster gone?"

"Yeah, we took care of it," Garrus told her, not taking his eye off Grunt. "Go back to your hiding place, young one. It still isn't safe."

The girl gasped at the sight of Grunt, stonewalling at the opposite end of the corridor. His eyes beamed back at them with deadly intentions.

"Remove the Human child out of this," Thane said to Garrus. "I'll handle Grunt."

"Thane—"

"I'll handle him," Thane declared.

Garrus simply nodded his head and backed away towards the girl, grabbing her by the wrist. "Come with me," Garrus said pulling the girl out the corridor where he knew what was going to go down.

* * *

Shepard felt his heart in his throat, gripping the body of a modified Systems Alliance assault rifle tightly in his grasps. He had no idea what he was getting himself and his fellow teammates into.

"Tali, what's your status?" He said over his hailer now active on an open channel.

"_We're still hanging in there, Shepard," _her voice came back. "_Those things aren't giving up… whatever you have to do—do it now!"_

"Just ten more seconds Tali—hang on!"

The stress of reaching his crewmates fed off Shepard's adrenalin. He was itching to get out this lift and shoot anything that didn't look like any galactic species he's ever seen. The elevator chimes as the trio arrived on deck three.

"Soon as those doors open… you shoot anything with teeth bigger than its face." Shepard ordered Miranda and Samara. The two simply nod pointing the ends of their weapons out in front of them.

The doors part ways, and almost immediate, a wall of those twisted, mangled forms were just waiting on them.

Shepard didn't know who fired first, just a barge of bullets following the thunderous cadence of their weapons sounding off. Chunks and pieces of flesh blasted off the aliens as their rounds tore through them, yet these relentless beings weren't going down that easy. In fact, they actually converge upon Shepard and his teammates. Dozens of pincer like arms clog the opening to the elevator, along with a dozen more waiting in the outside hall.

Hip firing his weapon, Shepard backtracks into the elevator, managing to blow away one of those creatures before it chomped down on him with its scythe like arms. His back was against the wall and these things just kept coming. Their roaring screeches and mangled voices clogged Shepard's ears that he just barely made out Miranda shouting. "CLOSE THE BLOODY DOOR!"

Since the Commander was nearest to the panel, he hits one of the disgusting aliens across the jaw with the butt end of his rifle then forcefully nudged it out the door with his shoulder. The alien trips over another that was prone on the floor and tumbles out into the corridor. In a hurry, Shepard tapped the 'close door' button but to their misfortune, the holographic interface flashed orange, canceling that order.

"The fuck are you waiting for, Shepard?!" Miranda shouted.

"Damn door's stuck!" Shepard told her. "A little help wouldn't hurt?!"

At that moment, Samara unleashes a massive biotic wave that sends the creatures flying back into the corridor wall and out the elevator. The control panel transposed back to its normal hue of blue and the doors closed shut and the elevator began its rise back up to the CIC. That was the case, until the lift became stuck in the shaft and everything went stone quiet.

Samara's legs buckled from under her and she fainted limp. Shepard caught her then gently set the Asari down gently. Even someone of her caliber could get taxed by biotic after effects.

"_Shepard…?!" _Tali's crummy voice comes through over Shepard's hailer. "_Where are you guys? Did you…"_

"I'm sorry, Tali," Shepard grudged out. "There were too many—we couldn't… we couldn't get through. I'm sorry."

Tali's end went silent beside the sound of the creatures banging and scrapping against the metal keeping them out. Shepard felt so defeated. That there was nothing he could do to reach his trapped crewmates without getting someone killed. It was hard to take in… after defeating the Collectors they were going to die onboard their own ship.

Stirring his attention, Shepard heard Miranda groan, holding a hand to her abdomen. She stood leaning her back against the wall, her off-white Cerberus uniform was stained in crimson red. "It's nothing," she blew off. "Just a… a flesh wound…" Her voice becomes a slur and she slid to the floor.

Shepard shifted over from Samara to check on her. Gently he moved Miranda hands away only to see a scythe like appendage sticking out from her.

"Jesus!" He swore at the sight.

"Shepard…" Miranda groaned weakly trying to move.

"No—no stay still," Shepard told her. "Just… don't move…"

He had no idea what to do. With absolutely no medi-gel or anything to stop the bleeding, Shepard cleared the panic from his mind and pulled his shirt off. As quickly as he could, he tied a knot around the sharpen appendage in an effort to keep Miranda from bleeding out any further than she already had. He fought the temptation of pulling the sharpen object out of her, only knowing it'll cause her to bleed out quicker.

"Hold your hand there—you'll be alright," Shepard took Miranda's hand and held it firmly over the shirt, quickly transforming red. "Keep your eyes open—okay?"

Now with both Miranda and Samara incapacitated, there was little to no hope at all in taking back the _Normandy. _But this was just the start of the downward spiral that's soon to come.

"_Shepard…"_ Tali's voice trialed through the light static of the hailer. _"Don't take responsibility for this. I know how you are."_

Shepard just remain numb to the conversation, practically sitting on the hard metal floor. He wanted to say something so bad… to tell her that it'll be alright. But both of them knew it was a sugarcoated lie.

"_Whatever happens…" _Tali went on. _"Just make sure the galaxy knows what happened here. Do you hear me?"_

Shepard bit his tongue. He knew these were probably Tali's last words… and it made him physically sick to his stomach in hearing her say this.

Just when Shepard was throwing in the towel for his doom crewmates, another voice reported over the hailer and it rejuvenated Shepard's hope.

The voice, Shepard made out faintly but was able to recognize that it belonged to Kasumi.

"_Now are two trying to make me cry?" _Came the woman's sarcastic tone.

"Kasumi?!" Shepard snatches the hailer off his hip and holds it close to his mouth. "W-what's your status? Where are—"

"_Starboard observation deck—locked myself in," _came the elusive woman's replied. _"Loss count of how many of them things are outside... though they seemed to have grown in numbers."_

"Are you hurt?" Shepard asked. "Are you with anyone else?"

"_I'm running solo on this one, Shep," _she said, ignoring the other part of his question. "_I can't reach Tali in the med-bay… not without getting everyone killed." _She went silent on her, panting her breaths. "_But… there might be another way…"_

Shepard's blood chilled at the tone that haunted Kasumi's voice. "Kasumi, what are you—?"

"_The lift—it's pressurized, correct?" _Kasumi questioned cutting Shepard's sentence short.

At that moment, Shepard's realization of what Kasumi was planning hits home. The Commander slowly rose from his seated position on the floor, petrified. "Kasumi, listen to me…" he tried to reason with the woman, but he could tell she wasn't listening at all on her end. From her end, there was a constant hitting noise resonating through the receiver.

"_What's that sound?" _Tali's voices comes through. _"What are you doing, Kasumi?"_

The woman didn't reply, but that hitting noise intensified in her silence. Tali continued to try and get Kasumi's attention with no avail. Shepard on the other hand, knew exactly what she was trying to do.

"Look, don't do this, Kasumi," Shepard tried to plea one last time. "We'll find another way—it doesn't have to be like this!"

"_I wish that were the case, Shepard." _Kasumi finally said. "_But you and I both know… everyone onboard this ship is screwed a thousand times over. Some more than others. At least some of us will make it out this mess…"_

"No!" Shepard said strongly, his hand griping the hailer tightly. "We're _all _going to make it out of this—we're all gonna live!"

"_Stop lying to yourself, Shepard,"_ came Kasumi's reply. Her voice totally different from her usual matter, it carried a glimmer of desperation. _"No incentive words of yours is gonna get us outta this one. But this just might…"_

At that instant, the rushing sounds of a door opening following the unmistakable noise of those creatures flood Kasumi's end. Shepard psychically shook when he heard Kasumi's screams dominate the noise of her hailer. And then, there was a sudden and loud blast that splinters Shepard's ears and then… totally silence.

"_Oh no…" _Tali's chilled. "_Did she…? Is she…?"_

Shepard shook his head, "she's gone, Tali. Kasumi's gone."

* * *

"The fok is dat?" Zaeed asked coming over behind Joker's chair in the cockpit. He, the pilot and Jacob attention was held by a scaled model of the _Normandy. _A warning indicator flashed red for the entire crew deck compartment.

"Holy shit," Jacob swore chillingly. "I think the… crew deck just… depressurized."

Breaking their conversation, the roar emitting from more of those aliens come baring down on them from across the CIC. It's like this nightmare was never going to end.

Zaeed immediately started shooting with his handgun at the advancing creatures making quick pace for the cockpit. He is immediately joined by Jacob and Joker.

"MOTHER…FUCKER!" Zaeed emptied an entire clip into mass of aliens squeezing their way down the narrow fuselage of the CIC. They might as well started shooting spitballs at the ugly bastards.

It isn't soon until one of the sharpen armed creatures began a sudden charge directly for Zaeed. At the last possible moment, Jacob used his biotic, wonder-boy powers that swept the charging alien off its feet and sent it flying back into the mass of aliens.

Before the aliens had time to regroup, a massive blast door came down, cutting off passage to the fuselage and the cockpit.

"That should… keep em' out," Joker's hoarse voice said.

"Yea, fast thinking there, kid…" Zaeed began to say sarcastically. "Let's just hit the button that sends the big fuckin' door down now." Zaeed flailed his arms, "and now we're foking trapped."

"Our objective is to defend the cockpit at all cost," Jacob reminded. "As long as those things don't get in here…"

"_Yet," _Zaeed said sharply, cutting Jacob off.

"No chance," Joker said. "Four inches of solid titanium. Gotta be the Hulk to bust through that bullshit."

"Whateva yew say," Zaeed said ill-fatedly.

Coming over the cockpit dashboard, the Commander's voice hailed in. Shepard sounded like he was beyond tired, though his voice retained a bit of authority.

"_Joker… what's your status?"_

"We had trouble up here in the CIC… it's taken care of," Joker replied. "Nav center is secured airtight, just awaiting word from Jack's group to get us the fuck outta here."

"What 'bout yew?" Zaeed questioned. "We saw up here dat crew deck spaced out."

It took the Commander a moment to reply before narrowly saying, "_I know. It was Kasumi_."

"Wait—what?" Joker's weak voice cracked. "Commander—"

"_Look, Miranda's severely wounded and we're stuck on the lift," _the Commander informed changing the subject. _"Can you get us moving on your end, Joker?" _

"I-I'll see what I can do, Commander," Joker told him. "Just… gemmie a sec, alright?"

* * *

Successfully navigating their way through the shaft, Kenneth, along with Gabby and Jack arrived in the engineering compartment. Kenneth was shaking all over fearing more of those things would come bearing down on them. Luckily for now, that wasn't the case, and engineering was eerily quiet.

"Alright hurry up you two," Jack said. "Don't got time to be jackin' off. We get these engines started and we'll be home free."

"I hope so," Kenneth shivered.

"Aye, it ain't no 'hope so'—just do what we came down here for," Jack told him coldly.

Kenneth wasn't going to argue, not cause the bald woman was wielding a shotgun but also because she was right.

Engineering was plunged in darkness with just a little light granted enabling Kenneth to see where to go. His mind was still foggy with the aspects of the controls down here, but Gabby seemed to have knew what she was doing.

"Alright, I've found the ignition sequencing control unit," the woman said tapping away at a holographic interface. "We'll have to prime the system back online simultaneously… if I can remember correctly…"

Kenneth just hovered over her shoulder like a lost puppy. He stared at the source coding scrolling down the length of the holographic screen but it all looked like random letters and numbers. Gabby steered her attention over at him.

"You're gonna have to hop on that other control panel over there," Gabby gestures to the CPU across from her. "Don't worry, I'll walk you through the protocol." She reassured.

"Okay… alright—I can dew dis," Kenneth told himself, even though he didn't believe so.

Suddenly, a sharp metallic thump caused Kenneth to jump in fright. There was scrapping emitting from the other side of the locked door leading into engineering. Kenneth knew what was trying to get in.

"Aye, just stay focus on what you're doin'," Jack told him. "And make it fast."

* * *

Grunt came at Thane with an intense ferociousness that the Drell was anticipating. There was plenty of time, yet limited space in the corridor to dodge the charging Krogan effectively, but Thane took the chance.

Thane swerved his body to the side just as Grunt's large mass came barreling at him. His left arm caught hold of the Krogan's head, where Thane swung himself onto Grunt's backside.

"Final chance. Calm down now, Grunt," Thane pleaded with the unexpected raging Krogan. He was prepared to put Grunt down, shall it come to that. But that was a last resort for Thane, he just needed a way to restrain the…

Thane felt Grunt's huge hands snatch him up off him and toss him hard to the floor. The Krogan's foot than slammed down on Thane's back, of which the Drell expelled blood drench saliva from his mouth. Grunt than kicked the Drell away like a ragdoll sending Thane slamming hard into the corner section of the bulkhead back first.

At that moment, Thane recalled seeing the Turian stepping out from the airlock entrance of which he stored the Human girl from harm's way. The Turian had made up his mind to step in.

"No—don't," Thane croaked failing to stand up. "Protect the Human child."

"I'll handle Grunt, you wait here," Garrus told him.

Thane had no energy to protest. The Turian dragged him out the corridor and into the airlock chamber. The frighten face of the Human child huddled down in a corner opposite to Thane was the last thing he remembered before blacking out.

* * *

The longer Kenneth, Gabby and Jack remained in engineering, the meaner those monsters got from beyond the door. Their pounding and relentless inchoerenht shouting resonated through the thick door, acting as a preview of what was to come next.

"Hurry the fuck up you two!" Jack shouted over at them through the dark.

Kenneth was shaking like a leaf and his fingers were drenched in a nervous sweat as he raced to finish the ignition sequence that'll hopefully bring the _Normandy _back and running. It was like the more he typed, the more the source coding made sense, it wasn't soon until the steps were falling back into place like a puzzle he'd finished a hundred types before. He could thank Gabby for her input in it all. Kenneth couldn't understand how she remained calm through their dilemma. He suggested that being afraid would get everyone who's left on the _Normandy _killed and they couldn't afford that.

"We're almost there," Gabby Said over to Jack. "Just one more minute and—"

—The sound of screeching metal splintered through the engineering compartment. It was soon accompanied by the roaring screams of the monsters who had forced their way in.

"Don't got a fuckin' minute!" Jack shouted. The sound of her shotgun blasting off bashed against Kenneth's eardrums. His heart was racing a million times a second at this rate and he was desperate in finishing the sequencing protocol which seemed never ending at the time.

The deafening sound of Jack's shotgun and the mumbling gargles of those demeaning aliens left Kenneth wondering if it'll ever end. He described it as the most terrifying thunderstorm anyone could be caught in. Only this thunderstorm was aimed in killing him.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the holographic interface on the console illuminates a soft blue with the words 'Ignition Primed'. They got it, now all they had to do was release the auxiliary latch and the mass effect core will be back online.

"Look—you guys gotta hurry this shit up!" Jack shouted from somewhere in the compartment. "Don't know how long I can keep theses fuckers off us!"

Kenneth couldn't see a damn thing, but he could smell the aliens' musty scent around him.

"Just go for the ladder—I'll take care of it from here!" Gabby told her. "You too, Kenneth."

"No! We'll finish it together—I can—"

"I'm the closets to the switch—you won't make it!" Gabby retaliated.

She was right, sadly of course. There was no way—without getting killed, that Kenneth was going to reach the latch… it had to be her.

"Just get out of here!" Those were Gabby's last words to him before the flood of those monsters forced Kenneth to make a run for the ladder. Jack wasn't too far behind him.

"C'mon—move yer ass man!" Jack encouraged that made Kenneth climb the ladder faster. He could still hear Jack firing off her weapon—possibly at a few aliens that chased after them. Between here shots and the flaring screams from the creatures, Kenneth felt a piece of him break when he heard Gabby's wailing screams echoing up the ladder. He felt so guilty for running, but there was no other way all of them were going to get out of there alive if he chose to stay behind.

* * *

Zaeed along with Joker and Jacob saw the blinking blue light that flashed off the nav computer dashboard. "Please tell me dat's something good?" Zaeed asked.

"Commander—propulsion systems are back online!" Joker managed to crack excitedly.

"_Then vector us outta here Joker," _the Commander ordered. _"Same coordinate as before."_

"Aye—aye," Joker acknowledged.

The pilot made quickly with the FTL protocols then pushed down on the throttle which screamed back the welcoming roar of the mass effect core. It wasn't soon after that the blue-shift encapsulated the craft.

Joker fell back in his seat and puffed a sigh.

At that moment, Jacob remarked, "you two hear that?"

"Wut?" Zaeed questioned with a shrug.

A smirk grew across Jacob's face as he eyed the two, "exactly."

Noting the near silence, the realization of what Jacob was saying hits him.

Joker reaches over the dashboard and hits the button that sent the security door that locked them in the cockpit. By the time the door had risen, the three of them had the shock of their lives… all the aliens lied lifelessly in a pile on the floor.

"What… the actual… fuck?" Zaeed remarked in his comrades absences of words.

* * *

Shepard felt the pitch of the lift moving once again, but it was moving down towards deck four. Miranda was stable and surprisingly conscious even as she lied in a pool of her own blood. Samara had recovered enough from her massive biotic break and aided in keeping Miranda alive.

"The… ship's propulsion…" Miranda tried to say.

"Yeah, we got the _Normandy _moving again," Shepard told her.

At that moment, the elevator doors opened to eerie silence of deck four. Shepard grabbed hold of his weapon and ordered Samara to stay at Miranda's side while he ventured into the darkness of deck four.

He had no idea what to expect but he knew right away that something wasn't right.

_"Commander?"_ Joker's voice came through over his hailer.

"What is it, Joker?_" _Shepard replied in a whisper.

_"The aliens, sir… they just…died or somethin'."_

Shepard stopped walking, taking a moment to understand what Joker is saying. Just as he was going to asks what the hell the pilot meant, something caught the Commander's eye. Piercing his eye through the shallow darkness, Shepard spots a large mass lying on the floor at the mouth of the hanger airlock. Stepping closer down the corridor, Shepard made out an unconscious Grunt laying alongside an unresponsive Garrus. There was so much blue blood… Shepard knew it belonged to Garrus and it looked bad.

Shepard immediately fell to Garrus' side trying to get a response from the Turian. He roughly shook Garrus but the Turian's eyes were wide open, starring up at the ceiling with no life behind them at all. Shepard knew, that Garrus—one of his closes friends, was dead.

"I couldn't stop it…" Shepard heard a voice mumble from inside the airlock. It came from Thane, strangely huddled in a corner comforting the limp, bloody child in his grasps. "I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop it…"

Thane gone, mentally, and Shepard knew it. He was broken beyond anything Shepard could image.

"Aye, it's alright," Shepard said as reassuring as his voice can get. He knelled down near his friend reaching an arm out to embrace the shattered Drell. From the Commander's touch, Thane began to whimper, tightening his grip on the presumed dead girl. "It's okay…" Shepard said quietly rubbing a hand down Thane's arm, "it's over now. It's over."


	6. Six

**Six :::**

**Hear My Prayer**

* * *

_Present Day_

_**Six months since the **_**USG Ishimura **_**Incident…**_

* * *

Hans Tiedemann has the CEC dominate side of the government facility of Titan Station on lockdown, as always. It is imperative that he maintained order and control at the unusual circumstances occurred on the station. Ever since they seemingly cracked the code in the impossibility of this artifact phenomenon, civil unrests has erupted all over the station.

Just last week, crime has risen tenfold mimicking that of Omega Station out in the Terminus System. Shootings, theft, robberies… pretty much every atrocity of society had snaked its way onto Titan Station. Hans couldn't help but wonder, could they, the CEC have any hand into what is going on? It sure crossed the minds of those working under him, rumors spreading that their research had sprung loose something neither of them could control for long. But Hans isn't going to let Titan Station descend into chaos on his watch. Superstition or not.

For decades, since its creation in Earth's brief spacefaring history, Titan Station remained the prestigious waypoint for Humanity's interstellar advancements. It didn't take long for station to transform itself into a cesspool once Humanity pushed their limits to the stars. It seemed like everyone was aimed in getting as far away from the Sol System as possible. But Hans is a loyalist, he loves his race and much like any CEC executive… he'll never turn his back on his people. He has done absolutely everything in his power to ensure Humanity's interest in the galaxy. Hell, he hardly ventures out of the Sol System that often. He doesn't pride himself to be much of a frontier junky, though he found his place at Humanity's epicenter. The lunching point of his race's advancements.

"Director Tiedemann," Hans' personal receptionist calls to him from his open office doorway. "They want to see you sir, right away."

Hans gives her a curt nod then takes a moment to recollect himself. Cracking the tension in his neck, Hans inhales deeply, pulling his arms into a crunching stretch from behind his back, then steps away from the panoramic window of his office, granting a breathtaking view of Saturn.

Abandoning his office, Hans takes a short walk down the carpeted corridor of the CEC facility to a door at the end of the hallway. Now, not even Hans, Director of Operations of Titian Station from its private police force to its handpicked engineers and work staff doesn't have clearance to pass through this door. In fact, this door didn't even exist until a little over a month ago.

Against Han's forehand, CEC certified construction workers were given orders by a confidential body to begin construction of another section to the CEC facility on Titan Station. They built this wing in the blink of an eye, with all its essential and nonessential utilities operational. None of it came out of Hans' pocket, of course. This… _anonymous_ body, sponged from their own accounts. Hans did the math… in order to completely construct an entire new wing to the CEC facility in little less than fifty standard Earth days would cost an estimate of over ninety million credits. Whoever these power players are, they sure aren't any CEC or even Alliance bigwigs at that matter.

At the completion of the construction project, this mysterious organization issued hand written authorization passes to only Hans and a select few of CEC and other non-organizational personal access to this wing. Hans didn't think much of it, since he is the most powerful man on Titan Station.

Taking another breath, Hans' hand hesitates on the doorknob. He knows, the moment he passes the door's threshold, he'll be at the mercy of a greater power than himself. He turns the knob to the door and steps through.

* * *

Isaac Clarke lands on all fours onto the harden cement flooring of his cell, projecting a pool of vomit before him. The warm, sticky substance of his stomach contents spews across his hands, seeping through his fingers.

"Nasty!" One of the guards that dragged him in retorts.

"Good thing the foul piece of shit waited till we got back to his cage," the other guard replies.

"Fuck yeah! Don't want any of that shit on me!"

The two guards laugh as they slam the stainless steel door to Isaac's cell shut behind him.

"Fuck you!" Isaac manages to mutter loudly at the retreating guards who have been treating him anything less than Human for weeks on end. The room continues to spin around him, but Isaac manages to remember where he is this time.

_Home sweet home,_ he muses plainly, spitting a wad of spit filled vomit to the floor.

Wiping his mouth clear of bile with the back of his hand, Isaac picks himself up and goes over to his cot where he sits. Given the extensive time in his cell, he begins to crawl into his memory—trying to retain something of which these people are so invested in getting to_._ For some odd reason, he is able to remember his memories in clear detail—even smell, taste and feel what he went through onboard the _Ishimura_. Yet at the same time, once that Asari is finished splicing through his mind, it all gets boggled up. He finds it nearly impossible to retain, like trying to remember the details of a dream upon waking up.

"Why can't I remember?!" He questions himself, burying his face into the palms of his hands.

Isaac knows, without a doubt that the people detaining him are after something he had encountered onboard the ship. He also knows, by the way these people are treating him, that by the time they're finished ravaging his mind, they'll dispose of him. This doesn't quiet rattle him as much as he thought it would. Nothing really does anymore. Ever since he managed to get the hell off the _Ishimura, _a relentless numbness had stuck to him like a curse. Seeing so much death, and unspeakable horrors, he thought he would have gone mad. He is certain that no galactic being to date has seen what he saw and lived to tell about it.

For now, Isaac gives his mind a rest. No point in trying to spurt his memory lapse back into motion. Sooner or later, he'll face whatever it was he had already fought weeks before on that ship. Either it be revealed to him by these people detaining him, or it'll just fly into his mind from out of nowhere.

"Just give it time," he says aloud to himself. He discovered early on his first days of captivity that if he spoke to himself often, it'll keep the whispering murmurs of his mind from creeping up on him. And it's also a way of jolting any loose memories strung together in the back of his mind, though not very effective at the least.

His mind still firing with questions, Isaac manages to lay himself down upon his cot, staring up at the bleak grey celling. The hieroglyphs that sketch every inch of his space show themselves to him. Before soon, Isaac can feel himself drifting upward, as if he is floating in the vastness of space, only this time the infinite of the void envelopes him—draws him in. He doesn't fight the euphoric feeling from taking over his body, a yearning sensation that he can remember feeling many times before. In this moment, all the physical and mental pains he has endured dissipate and the scant, raspy voices in his mind mellow out. A soothing tone of a familiar voice sends goosebumps rolling up his arm.

_"Just let go Isaac," _the voice whispers gently. _"Stop fighting… let them have what they want from you."_

The voice, so soothing, so reassuring. All Isaac has to do is give in—open his mind so that these people can stop torturing him. To end it all.

He suddenly finds himself more relaxed than he's felt in weeks. Every tense fiber under his skin uncoils and his breaths become even, like his room had just been pumped full of antistatic. His chest, rising and falling evenly with breaths, for a moment, he seems to forgotten that he's encased in concrete, plunged in near darkest with just the illumination of a single flicking light bulb buzzing over his head. He feels… at peace.

Then, the whisper voice comes again, this time it comes to him as if spoken into his ear. Isaac shields his eyes close, listening intently to the voice… a comforting voice that sounds awfully familiar. Something that he once cherished but the memory continues to fade to the edge of his conscious.

_"You don't have to fight anymore,"_ it says. "_You've done your part. Now's the time to rest. Just rest…"_

…A sudden and painful spike of a headache begins to radiate at the top of Isaac's skull. At first, the discomfort is minimal, the harder he tries to ignore it, the more intense the pain gets. Before Isaac knows it, the spiting pain drains across the side of his skull and then seeping down towards his neck. It becomes so unbearably that he starts to contort, rocking back and forth in his cot as if it'll rub it all away. He tries to open his eyes, though he finds the simple effort impossible, like someone had riveted them shut forever.

Panic immediately sets in, wiping away the brief moment of euphoria he had felt. He grunts and cries out from the pain now striking the insides of his body, twisting and turning violently until he flips off the cot altogether, bruising his ribs upon landing on the hard cement floor.

Within the darkness of his closed eyelids, a blast of fiery red flashes spark like fireworks in his head. First there is one, then two—now several, all blasting out from the reaches of darkness. Each one like a hammer slamming into his temples.

Now gripping his head, squirming and grunting loudly on the floor, Isaac can do nothing but endure the pain. He can feel his heart blasting in his chest; any moment now and it'll explode right out his body. His blood fire in his veins, every inch screaming for relief—begging for the pain to end.

The symbols keep flashing—broiling the insides of his eyes… until… till finally, they stop. The agonizing pain Isaac went through rinses out from his body, dissipating into the clammy air engulfing his cell.

His eyes blast open, light spots dance in his vision and the room is spinning. He manages to sit himself up, leaning an arm against the top of his cot.

"My God," he sighs, holding a hand to his forehead. "The hell… was that?"

Catching Isaac's attention, a hollow, billowing laugh drums into his cell. A sickening laugh lanced with madness. He doesn't know if it's his mind still recovering from… whatever the heck that painful spasm episode of his was. But then, as the world stops spinning and the intense ringing in his ear fades to the crevasse of his mind, he is able to tell that the source of this laughter doesn't resonate from his own madness. However, someone else being plagued with the crazies. Isaac is able to tell the laugher is originating from behind the wall of his cell. It isn't as thick as he first thought.

The maddening laughter abruptly stops and silence fills the space. Then, after an extensive pause, the scratchy voice of a man calls out to Isaac. "Having fun over there, are you?" Isaac could hardly make out what the man had said. His words were contorted in a mess of sporadic chuckles and or grunts, Isaac can't tell which though.

"What?" Isaac calls back at the scratchy voice, turning his face to the heavily carved wall to his right, where he believes he heard the voice.

"Heard you screaming… those joyful memories flooding back to you all at once, eh?"

As the voice muttered in laughter, Isaac sits upon the floor, back to his cot and contemplated what this madding person had said. "Wait, those were memories? What I saw—what I felt?"

The chuckling voice answers back, "trying to reach out to us they are, y'know? We're the trigger—you and I—they… they know that—they… want us to trigger it— they—"

"Hold on—stop for a minute!" Isaac shouts out, his head throbbed with pain as he did. "Now who are _they_, who are you talking about?"

"Don'tcha know?!" The prisoner spurts out. "They're already in your head—talking to us—cheering us on. Now it's time we've done our part. Set it free—make it whole."

Isaac's heart ran cold with that last phrase. Make it whole. He heard it before, just like everything—it's all been there a thousand times before. Yet all of it means nothing if he can't retain it. But it does come apparent to Isaac that this man—whoever the hell he is, knows more about what happened to him and what's going on now.

Before he could yank more questions out the crazed unseen prisoner, Isaac hears the prisoner's cell door open and the scuffle that soon follows. Prison guards had arrived to take the prisoner away, probably to get his mind probed by that strange Asari. But the prisoner isn't going without a fight…

"Son of a bitch!" One of the guard's exclaims. "Fucker bit my leg!"

"Hold em' down—get em' down!" Another guard shouts out. "Richardson, get the stun staff—shock this piece of shit!"

Isaac scrambles across the floor until he reaches the wall. He plants his ear to the cold clammy surface trying to get a sense of what is going on. All he hears are sounds of struggle emitting from two or more guards having a hard time restraining the crazed man. It isn't until Isaac hears the electronic burb of a stun staff shocking flesh, following a sickening cry.

"Ya like that?!" One of the guards taunts. "Hit em' again."

The sharp whine of the staff goes off again, but it is drowned out by the piercing cries of the man. Isaac closes his eyes and rolls over on his back. He collapses both hands over his ears in an attempt to cancel out the man's pains.

Finally, after minutes of torment, the screaming stops and a sudden silence fills its space. Isaac squints his eyes open the slowly removes his hands from the side of his head. The near silence nips at him with heighten anticipation. For a second, he believes the guards killed the crazed man, yet the quiet is broken by the voice of one of the guards.

"Is he dead?"

A moment later another guard pitches in with, "he's still breathing, just unconscious."

"What're we do now?" Another guard speaks up, this one sounding more novice than the rest. "Tiedemann and the Asari ordered us not to harm them."

"Relax kid, Director Tiedemann and his Asari pet are in some meeting," the graveled voice guard replied. The same one who ordered the crazed man to be shocked repeatedly. "We'll just say the prisoner was trying to bash his brains out like that other guy we scrapped up last week. No harm done."

It seems like majority of the guards agreed with this cover story.

"Richardson, keep an eye on the prisoner, tell us when he wakes up," the graveled voice guard instructed.

"Why me?" Richardson asked, fumbling his words.

"Cuz I said so."

And with that, Isaac hears shuffling of footsteps exiting the cell. All but _poor _Richardson who was left behind to stay watch.

* * *

Upon entering the newly rendered communication center that acts as the only gateway to these unidentified associates of CEC, Hans makes eye contact with his Asari counterpart. The alien doesn't say anything to Hans at his arrival. The two may not see eye to eye as to what they have been tasked in doing, and Hans could care less either way. Their research is vital in unlocking a secret larger than any of them could have ever imagine. That, and also all of Humanity and possible the galaxy is at stake of a larger threat lurker in the shadows no one has seen coming. Unfortunately, that doesn't go for theses strange non-CEC affiliates of which Hans' superiors had told him to report to.

Ever since the first 'outbreak' had occurred on a Human colony world somewhere near the Krogan DMZ, the CEC and their elusive partners were really quick in keeping this under wraps. Hans doesn't even know if the colony disaster had reached any ears among other Council races. As far as he knows, only a handful of people in the entire galaxy were aware of what was really happening… what really happened to that mining colony and the planet cracker vessel that orbited it. A momentary chill ran down Hans' spine as the thought sinks into his mind. It rattles him that he is among a few to partake in this discreet operation that has been happening right under the Alliance and even the Council's noses for months. What forces were they really dealing with?

"You're awfully quiet for a change," the Asari, Shiala says breaking Hans out of his troubling meditation. "So weird not hear you bark orders like some sort of slave master."

"Yes, well, I hope those days are behind us," Hans replies pulling at his shirt collar, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. After a moment of silence had come between the pair, Hans is first to speak again. "You did well, Shiala. Your abilities are the very reason we are here today. I know the tasks we've been through have been daunting at times… but for the greater good of both our species longevity depended on it."

A twisted look came across Shiala's face; Asari body language is easier to read since they are nearly Humanlike in appearance. Unlike the other species, who are nearly impossible to interpret unless they speak their mind.

"_Longevity…?_" She retorts with the shake of her head. "I wouldn't call it that. Even after all the data that we… _I _had recovered for the project… longevity would be an antonym of what we're getting ourselves into."

Hans doesn't reply right away to Shiala's statement. He too has been feeling doubts as to what research they were uncovering, especially since his superiors hadn't really told him the ultimate goal of this discreet project. His orders were vague at best: study subjects who had exposure to the 'artifact'; discover what became of the artifact after Agies VII destruction. That was about it. Now for six months, Hans and his staff of researchers have been implementing data gathered from Shiala's ability to meld into the subjects' minds. This data has been transferred to Inner circle CEC executives along with their mysterious pals who choose to stick to the dark. Until now. In the first time in months, Hans is about to meet with this mysterious cabal who have been yanking CEC's chain for countless weeks, or possibly much longer.

"You never saw what was in those Human meat bags of yours," Shiala continues to say in Hans' silence. He steers his eyes in her direction after she paused on her words. "What I saw… it just didn't make any sense. I've lived centuries, melded with hundreds—thousands of organic minds since then… but _this."_ She finally looks to Hans, her eyes connect heavily upon his own and he can see the strain of those six months weighing heavily on her conscious. "It's well beyond any restraint a singular mind could handle. I don't condemn those who sought out suicide as a means to escape the torment."

Now the Asari's dark eyes begin to shimmer with precipitation, yet her gaze remains glued on Hans' face. This was the first time Shiala has shared her experience of being in the subject's minds first hand with him. He knew it was bad… just not as bad as she's portraying.

"Their very thoughts had a mind of their own," Shiala goes on, her voice straining to maintain stability. "It was like a sea of deranged people were in their heads with them… tormenting them—stripping them of their moral actions and forcing them in committing atrocities against better judgment." Her voice drops to a near, dramatic whisper, "almost like an evil spirit had invaded their souls."

Okay… now she is starting to sound melodramatic. Evil spirits… really? Yes, she was a follower of a proclaimed religious figure—turned zealot in her years leading up to being recruited for this project. Hans had read her personal dossier: it seemed Shiala wasn't stranger in getting herself into otherwise unnatural events around the galaxy. A few years back, she was held captive by an ancient alien telepathic being that took residency beneath a Human dominate colony world. The colony had went to hell shortly after forcing an Alliance vessel to step in and sort things out. Details of the mission were closed booked, since it was a Council Spectre who also partook in rescuing Shiala from the ancient alien, but the incident always reminded Hans that Shiala has a few screws loose upstairs. He can't blame her though, he'll probably act the same way if the shoe was on the other foot.

Still, there was one thing that hit Hans like bricks to the gut: how whatever it was that invaded the subjects' minds made them commit atrocities. That very statement reflects exactly what some citizens on Titan Station have been doing. But how in the universe could anything of what the subjects be experiencing effect the population of Titan Station? Hans can't wrap his mind around that.

Ending their conversation, the lighting in the vertical, cylindrical room dims dramatically, like a moving starting at a cinema. A neon blue gridded beam scans up from a circular platform in the floor rising slowly up to the ceiling. Hans looks over at Shiala at his right, dumbfounded as to what is going on. Seeing Shiala's calm composure, Hans stops his fidgeting and remains still in his stance. The fluorescent blue beam comes back down to the circular device in the floor until abruptly cutting off.

A lingering darkness hovers over the chamber until Hans makes out the faint blue shimmer of something shifting in his field of vision. He glances over at Shiala then back at whatever this shimmering, static looking figure is. After a while, the shimmering, humanoid figure clears up just enough for Hans to make out a fellow Human being. The Human, a man, dressed in some sort of military style uniform approaches Hans, yet the man's footsteps hover a few inches off the floor in front of him. It doesn't take Hans too long to realize he is starring at a real-time holographic feed of this uniformed man.

"_Y-you m-may be… experiencing some… in-interference…" _The man's voice is scant, nearly indecipherable from Hans' end. It is clearing up as the holographic machine idles on. As the sound quality clears up, so does the visual, and from what Hans can see now, he makes out the holographic man's uniform. He surely isn't any CEC exec… he's military… Navy, officer too, high ranked. The shimmering distortion of the image clears radically, allowing Hans to make out the unmissable insignia embroidered on the upper right corner of the officer's naval slacks.

_He's… an Alliance Officer?!_

The Alliance Officer musters a rather genial smile, collapsing his hands behind his back. "_Good greetings to you, Director Tiedemann. It is good to finally see you eye to eye, so to speak."_

Hans' lip quivered before speaking, "you're… Alliance Military?" Saying it aloud doesn't aid in it making any sense in Hans' mind. He was made aware by CEC that Alliance brass had no indication within this matter, and that their mysterious corporate partnership was an entity even above themselves. Yet this grinning Alliance Officer, an Admiral judging off the epaulettes ornamenting his shoulders just threw a monkey-wrench into the mix.

The Admiral's grin fades from his face altogether, almost like it was set on a timer. His expression became a clean slate indicating nothing at all but order and dominance. _"I'm sure you have many questions, Director. However, now's not the time nor reason for this briefing." _The Admiral's warm formalities have long faded, now he is in a controlling state, demeaning all questions should only come out of his mouth and no one else's. A peg of burning irritation builds inside Hans' chest, he doesn't like being talked down upon as if he's some intern fresh out of college. Still, he remembers he really doesn't have a say here in this room. All bets are put on hold, for now.

"_I've decided to contact you today as a gesture of extending thanks to you and your team's hard work." _The Admiral says, picking at the bridge of his nose before motioning his arm back behind his back._ "Discretion has been our second biggest weapon of choice in this matter. The first being our workforce's ability and ingenuity, of course. We've received and reviewed the data… all is well, everything has transitioned smoothly as perceived." _

"Thank you sir," Hans utters out, "it has been… a pleasure to partake such an operation. Although, if I may ask?"

The admiral dips his head to continue.

"What will become of the numerous subjects?"

The admiral bends at his knees momentarily before saying, _"we… may need two of the primary subjects in your inventory. Subject A and Subject B… the two who had prolonged exposure with the artifact. Don't fret about transportation, we'll send in a team to extract them for you, Director."_

Studying the Admirals face, a small voice inside Hans sang with red flags. Something doesn't feel right about this. The CEC—Hans station personnel has plenty of men and women who could ship the two subjects off station. Why would this Admiral waste any of his personnel for something Hans himself can do?

"Are you sure, sir?" Hans asks, his voice coming out slightly cynical. "Titan Station trademark is its fast maneuvering personnel. I'll have the subjects onboard a flight even before you leave that office you're standing in now."

The Admiral cracks a slight smile then says, _"you misunderstand me, Director. The extraction team is en-route for Titan Station as we speak."_

The challenging smile on Hans' lips drops and an empty, dreadful feeling invades his gut.

"_We'll know when they arrive," _the Admiral goes on, holding that fake grin of his. "_As I had stated earlier, Director… your services have been most appreciated."_

* * *

Without further words exchanged, Rear Admiral Boris Mikhailovich steps out the virtual interface communication field which toggles the machine to turn off automatically, ending the conversation with Director Tiedemann. The lasting image of Tiedemann's wide-eyed expression just before the feed was cut causes Mikhailovich to chuckle to himself. He stops his laughter short, and replaces it with a sense of determination. The one's in tuned with the Marker signal will be his in short time. It's his define duty to do so… his mission.

Taking advantage of the enclosed room, with no one around, the Alliance Admiral falls down to his knees, out reaches his palms to the ceiling and closed his eyes. He allows his head to lean back upon his neck, as far as it can naturally go. The weight of the universe seems to have lifted, opening Mikhailovich to his destiny, to his prophet.

"Father Altman…" he begins to appeal with outstretched arms, "hear my prayer…"

* * *

_A/N: Don't worry, I haven't gutted this story just yet... it's just getting good!_


	7. Seven

**Seven :::**

**They're Inside Us Already**

* * *

It's been several hours since the… _meeting _had ended, and Hans is still bitter over it to no end. Alone, sitting behind his desk in his office, Hans' mind continues to replay each word that Admiral had breathed. It was like the man was taunting Hans, making him feel more like a fool and out of control of the power invested in him. Hans feels that his pride had been bruised, smothered by that mysterious Systems Alliance Admiral. Before the meeting had begun, Hans didn't know what to expect. He did however wanted to be shown equally respected for his hard work of keeping this project off the books as much as possible. But now, with that arrogant Admiral—whoever the hell he was supposed to be, Hans finds it difficult to process that this man was the individual his CEC superiors wanted to report to, then he can't take the organization serious.

"Who does he think he is?" Hans contemplates aloud, snatching up a piece of tissue and wiping it over his sweating face. "I've done everything in my duty for this corporation—for Humanity, and this—"

Catching himself midsentence, Hans realizes that he's ranting off to himself… again. A habit he hasn't quiet shaken since his adolescents.

Blowing an exhausted sigh, Hans leans forward on his elbows crisscrossing his arms on the desk and sinking his head between his arms. These months have been murder on his mentality—keeping track and order of operations on Titan Station along with the tight lid of obscurity for this project… even he's amazed with himself that he can process rational thoughts still. Though who is he kidding, Shiala did all the mental work, literally. All he did was bark orders at her, acted rudely too her sometimes too. A piece of him regrets that notion of it all. Maybe he's just giving in to his bigotry towards aliens, he always felt weirded around any of them, often times without knowing. Yet Shiala is different, well, to him the Asari is. Maybe when all of this is over, Hans will get over his xenophobia and plan an escape from his Human-centric enclosure.

_That sounds like an idea,_ he muses picking his head up out his arms.

Taking a peek at the holographic clock sitting nearby, Hans realizes that he should get on prepping those two subjects for transport. For now, he has to set his self-esteem aside and continue with the tasks handed down to him. Though he reminds himself, that he's doing this in favor of the Concordances, not for that Systems Alliance bastard. The Admiral's pickup group will be arriving in the next eleven hours or so. Although the logistics of Titan Station's transportation is one of the finest in the Sol System—possibly the galaxy, Hans bolsters, it still doesn't hurt to have things set up ahead of time…

…Breaking him out of thought, a warm substance lands on his hand. It's blood. Confused, Hans only stares at it when three more drops hit the same spot, running down his knuckles. Touching his nose, Hans' draws back his hand where he sees his fingers coated from tip to palm in blood.

"My… God!"

Jumping up from his chair, sending it falling back to the floor, Hans snatches tissue after tissue from the box smacking them to his face in an attempt to stop the relentless bleeding. Both hands pressed on his face, Hans rushes over to his bathroom, tucked behind a sliding door left to his desk, opposite to the vista displaying Saturn. Keying the door open, the lights spring on the instant Hans dashes over to the sink, where he inspects his image in the mirror hanging over it.

Peeling the tissue away, now soaked thoroughly with crimson, Hans' pulse elevates when he sees a river of reddish dark blood flooding out of his nostrils, dripping from the peak of his chin and falling into the sink bowl.

"SHIT—SHIT—SHIT!"

His bloodied hands trembling, Hans turns the faucet on cuffing his hands over the steam of water and splashing it over his face. Water flies over his head, stains his uniform, spilling over the sink and onto the marble floor. Saturated blood spirals down the drain with a continuous effort… the bleeding isn't stopping.

"Son of a—"

Hans throws the mirror cabinet open and begins a frantic search for anything to stop the bleeding. He knocks over pill vials, soap bars and anything else that stands in his way to the medkit nested at the back of the cabinet. He grabs hold of the medkit handle and yanks it out.

His heart pounding frantically, Hans attempts to rush out the bathroom where he finds his quick step intercepted by a bar of soap. He instantly loses his balance, falling backwards, arms flaring until the ceiling fills his vision. It's the last thing he'll ever see.

"Oh Shi—"

In a fraction of a second, a crunching, squishy sound pierces Hans' ears. He didn't have a chance to feel the intense pain of his skull smashing against the sink nor the snap of the vertebrae in his neck.

* * *

Aiden Richardson hates his fellow correctional officers. He felt a rush of relief come over him when Strummer, his supervisor and a jerk-ass at that, sent him on terminal duty outside the 'synthesizing farm.'

Strummer, like most guards in this place, have been working here for years, from what Aiden had picked up. They told him stories of their jobs—some dumb, others downright sick about the numerous prisoners they were tasked in watching over. Strummer and his goons for guards had imprisoned aliens, from Turian bandits, Batarian slavers to even a Drell at one point in time. The Drell, Aiden believes they made up, that species hardly ventures out their home star system. However, the cruelty Strummer and his uniformed gang of dirty correctional officers had committed on the alien prisoners, Aiden doesn't believe they made up. After seeing firsthand how they treat their own race, he could only image what sick and twisted shit they did to those aliens.

Now Aiden isn't a stranger to seeing some shit. In fact, he's seen plenty in his twenty-two years of living. Before arriving on Titian Station, and finding employment in the Concordance Extraction Corporation, Aiden was a member of the Blue Suns. He wasn't anyone special in the mercenary band: just another deadpan kid with a gun and jacked up with unfulfilled ambition. Since the age of nineteen to his twenty-first birthday, Aiden ran with the Blue Suns, operating heavily in the lawless Terminus Systems. One of three Humans in his entire band, he never felt so much subtle racism and isolation in his life. Most of it came from those four eyed bastard Batarians. Not all of them are bad, Aiden reminds himself, bottling his prejudice. Just the aliens he seems to run across.

It's been little over a year since Aiden had contact with any of his former Blue Suns. He was surprised though, when he received an I.M. on his personal extranet account from an anonymous sender who informed him of his band's demises on Omega Station. Apparently, they had joined a coalition of other mercs just to hunt one guy… that one guy happened to have friends… _badass_ friends.

A random laugh escapes Aiden's gut, as he mans his post behind a horseshoe shaped kiosk, starring at a monitor detailing multiple surveillance cam footage of this section of the CEC wing. Most people find monitor duty boring as hell, yet for Aiden, it's an escape from strolling down the prison holds where they hold the people who survived some 'outbreak' that occurred on a series of starships across the galaxy.

Aiden doesn't have a clue as to why he along with the other guards were tasked in escorting the prisoners from their cells to that room that reminds him of an Old-Earth lethal injection room. He also can't explain what part the Asari has to do with it all. Only that he finds the alien attractive, though he keeps this strongly to himself.

Speaking of the green vixen, the Asari comes strolling down the corridor, passing in front of Aiden's vision. As much as he tries not to, Aiden finds his gaze hooked on the Asari. Something, some angelic aurora seems to shroud the alien, like most of its kind, they always take the breath right out of Aiden's chest. He doesn't know why he likes this particular species so much, maybe it's their near human appearance, exotic skin tones or it could just be some fetish he's stumbled into.

His eye still captured by the Asari, Aiden's heart almost leaps out his chest when the alien looks his direction—right at him.

Quickly, he makes himself look occupied, placing a hand to his cheek, pressing his face into the translucent, holographic monitor, trying to find his eyes something else to stare at. After a while of playing nonchalant, Aiden adjusts his vision, starring pass the monitor and to the dark, empty corridor beyond.

Blowing a sigh, Aiden eases the tension in his shoulders and gut, leaning back in the chair. It's one thing that he has some sort of small obsession over Asari, though he's never worked up the courage to ever speak to one. Unless he's hammered beyond apparent reason on booze or drugs, then he feels like a Krogan with a colossal dick.

Time goes on for Aiden and now he is beginning to feel boredom and fatigue set in. The Asari is long gone and hasn't passed down his way in nearly two hours. His desk time shift will be ending in another hour or so, and then he can hit the gym for a short while and then catch some shut eye for a few hours.

The monitors have remained relatively empty of activity, spare of some officer workers mingling in the main atrium catching a smoke break. Aiden can use a cig right about now.

Sliding a hand off his cheek, Aiden releases an extensive yawn, stretching his arms up for the ceiling. Relaxing out of his stretch, Aiden scratches at an eye while keeping his other trained on multiple screens on the monitor. Shifting his focus off the mingling officer workers, Aiden's attention lands on the vid-pixel at the top right corner of the monitor where he sees…

"The fuck," Aiden swears under his breath, sitting on the edge of his seat, squinting his vision on the square image depicting surveillance footage of a utility corridor. Aiden taps the square, enlarging it over the monitor.

Whatever it was, it just left the camera's field of vision.

Unconvinced that it wasn't nothing, Aiden listens to the small voice in the back of his head and follows after the strange figure he saw.

Minimizing the square, Aiden brings the monitor back to its original slat: showing the numerous security feeds of the Southeastern Wing. His eyes scan the rows of surveillance footage when he catches the oddly humanoid figure stumbling through another corridor. But that can't be possible, this corridor is literally on the opposite end of the wing.

"No…no," shaking his head, Aiden tries to make sense on what he's seeing.

A sudden rush of paranoia penetrates his body from out of nowhere. The sensation that someone is watching him forces Aiden to twist and turn in his seat, taking stock of the barren corridor around him.

Slightly calming down from his panic induced episode, Aiden sinks into the leather of the chair, gripping the armrest with an iron grip. His right hand hovering over his holstered sidearm. For whatever reason, Aiden feels fearful for his life, almost like something terrible is going to happen to him any—

—From down the hall, the sound of a door slamming causing Aiden to literally jump in his seat. In his right hand, he grips the handle of his sidearm. He can hear the swish of his own blood rushing by his ears in the backdrop of the suffocating silence. Aiden's eyes dart on either sides of the corridor, awaiting anything to show up and try something.

His finger itches at the trigger of his weapon, eyes and ears sharp. Aiden's attention flows back down to the monitor where his eyes enlarge on the security feed showing him sitting at the desk… with an odd creature standing directly behind him.

A heaviness from hell chocks the life out of Aiden. A wheezing breath following the stink of rancid breath assaults his nostrils. Petrified with fear, Aiden sinks deeper into chair, feeling the creature's hold tightening around him.

Then, a burst of adrenaline kicks in and Aiden launches up to his feet screaming at the top of his lungs when his gaze becomes locked on the creature's twisted face. The thing unleashes a growl at Aiden of which he vaults over the desk falling sprawled out on the floor.

The creature lunges over the desk after him. Aiden raises his sidearm and, while screaming hysterically with his eyes closed, unleashes a volley of rounds for the creature. Aiden doesn't know how long he was firing but the gun clicks empty, and by the time he opens his eyes, the creature is no longer there. All his shots had hit the wall in a sporadic spray.

"Wh-what…?! How..?!" Aiden's mind draws blank as the extreme panic expels from his mind and body, leaving a stinging numbness where the fear once occupied.

"What the fuck…?"

Aiden's attention flows to three guards, all with weapons drawn stumble upon him in a heaping mess of fear and piss on the floor. The expression written on the guard's face in the shadow of their caps says it all as what Aiden is wondering now.

"The hell happened, Richardson?" One of them asks while the other two just remained just as dumbfounded as Aiden is.

Shaking his head, Aiden can't come up with a rational explanation. What he just saw—smelt—tasted… it didn't make a lick of sense.

"Why did you discharge your weapon?" The same guard asks, creeping ever so closely towards him.

"I… I saw something," Aiden tries to explain, his voice shaking hard. "It was in the monitor, It was in corridor A—and then it-it was… it was someplace else and—and then it was behind me and…"

The guard just nods to everything he says, while at the same time reaching to take Aiden's weapon away very slowly. "It's alright son, you'll be alright, okay? You'll be alight."

Before Aiden can react, the two other guards pounce on top of him, pinning him to the floor. "NO! What are you doing?!" Struggling under their combined weight, Aiden ultimately loses where the guards turn him over onto his belly and begin bounding his wrist together.

"Oh no—no—no—no—no—please!" Aiden begs. "No—please! Stop—please!" The restraints tighten upon his wrists. "Don't do this, please!" Aiden continues to beg, the side of his face pressed into the rough feel of the carpet, "PLEASEEEEE!"

* * *

"Director Tiedemann?" Gloria, the Director's receptionists calls for him while gently knocking on his door. Gloria has been feeling a bit apprehensive ever since the Director got out of that classified meeting of his. Ever since, he asked not to be disturbed, yet Gloria couldn't put a pin in her suspicions when she has heard her boss' sink running for the pass two hours. Suspicion had transformed into concern which turned into something wrong setting in Gloria's stomach.

"Director Tiedemann, sir? Is everything alright?"

This time, she is able to hear something fall over. Unsure as to what it is, Gloria can't hamper her ever-growing anxiety. Reaching into her skirt pocket, she takes to hand her all-access keycard, holding it over the receiver which grants her access to the door. Usually, this is something Gloria would never chance, but this is an unusual circumstance.

Pushing the door open, Gloria hesitates upon entering the Director's office. The sound of the sink really hits her ears now, which gravitates her attention in that direction. The bathroom door is left open, prompting Gloria to swallow her modesty and step into the Director's personal office space.

She creeps towards the open bathroom door, not sure if the Director's inside or not. Just as Gloria is going to call out to him, she finds her words stopped in her throat. She instantly halts in her step, slapping both hands over her mouth as a way to quell a scream from coming out.

There is blood everywhere in the bathroom, coating the sink, a puddle of it on the floor, yet still no trace of the Director at all. Shaken beyond belief, Gloria stops herself from investigating any further and turns and tries to make a run out of the Director's office. Only that her path is intercepted by the most terrifying thing she's ever seen in her life.

"Oh my God!" She hollers scooting far back away from the thing until she crashes into the desk behind. "Guards—Guards help me! HELP ME!"

The ghoulish, Humanoid creature advances on Gloria pinning her on top the desk. She doesn't ever have a chance to put up a fight as the thing takes a chucking bite out her neck, severing her jugular vein wide open and spewing blood that very instant.

She chocks and squeals on her own breath, the pain so unbearable she cries out for it to stop. But it doesn't. She is unable to do nothing as the thing bites into her flesh over… and over… and over again until finally, her suffering ends.

* * *

_A/N: Sheesh, I know, gruesome chapter. But I updated faster than you thought huh?_

_ P.S: If you're wondering how Hans or the colonists on the _Normandy_ died and got infected without an infector around… that will be discussed as the fic unfolds… (hint: the title of this chapter…)_

_ Until the next chapter… ;-)_


	8. Eight

**Eight :::**

**Crawl Into The Dark Machine**

* * *

Alone, sitting in a confined room, one wrist still bounded, this time to a table leg, Aiden eyeballs the clock. Time drags on for however long he's been kept in this room. Now he's beginning to see how those prisoners feel, except they've been detained for several months, and nearly a dozen committed suicide during the first few weeks after arrival. It all makes sense to him now—being cornered like an animal is no way anyone should be treated. He wouldn't grant this on his worst enemy.

But he knows why his fellow guards stripped him of his weapon, coms and stun staff. For some unexplainable reason, Aiden really lost his shit and snapped at thin air. The sensation hijacked his body, like someone else with a fucked up mind had switched brains with his. What was that thing he saw—he felt? It couldn't had been some hallucination, like he's heard floating about in regards of the prisoners' shredded minds. Though it wasn't just them nor Aiden himself. Outside the CEC facility, in the Public Sectors of the Sprawl, he's heard stories about residence seeing 'ghosts'. Some of which even hearing or smelling things that weren't there. On some occasions, Sprawl residence heard voices in their heads, tempting them into committing violent crimes. It doesn't make sense at all… how could any of that be effecting…?

…The door opens, Aiden's attention falls on a man he's seen around on the surveillance monitors but never caught his name. When the man sits in the chair directly across the table, Aiden's eye lands on his CEC badge nested in his breast pocket: F. Edgars.

Edgars doesn't say a word to Aiden, doesn't even look his way as he powers on his tablet, mostly referred to as a slate now. Anyway, Edgars calmly places his slate on the table top, enabling the kickstand so the handled device can sit up at an angle. Clearing his throat, he then reaches into his breast pocket pulling out a stylus pen and begins swiping the pen across the tablet's surface.

This entire time, Aiden has been watching the man, starring right at his shifting eyeballs reading whatever is on the screen.

Having enough of this guy's silent coyness, Aiden attempts to break the stiff quiet. "Look, I know I freaked-out out there," he begins to say, receiving no reply from Edgars. So he goes on with, "but I'm good now—I'm…I'm good to go. So, if you can get these cuffs off me…"

Cutting his sentence short, an annoyance fills Aiden's gut when he realizes this stuck up bastard isn't even listening to a word he says. Edgars continues to tap away on that slate, his eyes blinking absently as if Aiden up and vanished out of existence. It becomes evidently clear that Edgars is in no mood of hearing him say a word. So Aiden leans back into the uncomfortable metal chair exhaling a tired sigh, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand.

After what felt like forever of waiting, Aiden's daydreaming is severed by the sound of Edgars' voice breaking the quiet air between them. "Mr. Richardson…?"

"Oh, so now you see me?" Aiden says with dry sarcasm. "I guess the invisibility cloak had found a new owner."

Edgars' deep set eyes grow narrow, his rough face folding with slight malice. "Mr. Richardson, I've become aware of the matter that you suffered a spontaneous and sudden panic attack while positioned at your station." Edgars' eyes shift down to the slate, "between the hour mark of 21:09 to 21:13, your RIG registered a heighten surge in blood pressure as well as problematic brainwave activity."

"Yeah, so?" Aiden says, trying to see the point Edgars is dancing around.

Edgars brings his eyes back on Aiden, "mind explaining to me, in as much detail you can provide as to what you experience during those four minutes?"

Aiden dances his vision off Edgars for a moment, processing his jumbling thoughts of the odd occurrence that had robbed him of all sanity and reality. "I… it was all so strange… the whole thing, really."

"Take your time," Edgars coaxes, even managing a thin smile as he folds his hands on top the table. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Mr. Richardson. Whatever you experienced… either it had been an unusual sighting, seeing a decease relative that spoke to you… similar accounts have been reordered in and around the Sprawl for months."

Aiden appreciates the man's reassurances, and judging off that stiffen smile of his, Aiden assumes that Edgars has heard these stories all too much.

"It's just…" Aiden begins to say, "what I saw…" he shakes his head. "It didn't… it wasn't anything I've ever seen before."

Edgar slightly raises a brow, though maintains a solid façade.

"Like it—it was something you can't even make up in your mind… like you totally have to be jacked up on every drug in the universe to visualize."

"Surely you can describe one part of it," Edgars proposes, speaking with curiosity in his tone. Or surprise, Aiden can't tell. Edgars quickly touches at the slate before turning it around for Aiden to use. The screen blank white, Edgars offers the stylus. "Draw it, perhaps?"

Aiden gives the man an unbelievable stare, "seriously? Unless you have some pills for me to pop, dude…"

"Something stimulated the apparition you saw, Mr. Richardson." Edgars inserts the stylus in Aiden's hand. "Maybe if you free sketch—anything… it may lead to what made you see what you saw."

Aiden sees where he's coming from, but starring at this blank white screen just hinders his ability even further to generate that part of his mind. That's just the thing, he didn't _see _it— he _felt _it… if that makes any sense. There is something about these visions or whatever that evoke more than just emotions. Aiden can't come up with the right words to describe it… almost, supernatural.

"Sorry man," Aiden says shaking his head, handing back the stylus. "Got nothing. My mind's still numb… I don't think I can…"  
"Don't apologize, Mr Richardson." Edgards says, a hint of disappointment licking his tone. "I'm sure, in time, the moment will reveal itself." Taking his slate to hand, Edgards stares at his wristwatch, rather an old Earth custom, then stands from his seat. He makes a move for the door, sending a worried pit to settle in Aiden's stomach.

"Wh-where are you going?" Aiden asks.

Tucking the slate under his arm, Edgards turns his back to Aiden, keying the sliding door open that leads out to the corridor. Just before he leaves, Edgards' pocketed walkie-talkie crackles off, a startled voice hails through.

_"All units—all units… Phase One breach in effect—I repeat Phase One breach in effect…"_

Aiden's stomach turns and he feels the blood in his face flush away, "no fuckin' way."

Confusion written across his face, Edgards pivots around facing Aiden and asks, "Phase One breach?"

Aiden swallows a dry lump in his throat before saying, "Director Tiedemann's dead."

* * *

Something is very wrong, that much Isaac can tell while trapped in his cell. Behind the two inch reinforced metal door to his hold, he's heard gunfire along with numerous running footsteps slamming across the grated walkways. Open coms chatter blazing, guards spewing curse words like it's a contest… yep, something's gone to shit and fast.

Pressing himself against the metal framing of the door, Isaac strains to make out the source to all this calamity. Through it all, he is able to make out the words _Phrase _or _Phase One _and a _Containment… _followed by a word he can't quite make out. He does however, make out the brief and frantic conversation of two guards passing by his cell.

"….Fuckin' cares man—I'm bailin' my ass outta here!"

"B-but w-what were those fucking things—for real though, Jennings!?" The second guard says.

"Look, let's just get the fuck outta here, alright?" Jennings says. "We'll figure out what the fuck that shit was later, okay? Now move your…"

Their conversation becomes lost as they continue to fast walk by Isaac's cell. They have no intentions of opening the cell doors, they are hauling ass out of this place, from whatever spooked them.

"Wait—Wait!" Isaac pounds his fists against the metal.

His noise goes unheard, or ignored, as the guards break into a jog down the walkway until their footsteps become a distant thump.

"FUCK!" Isaac shouts bashing both hands to the door. He steps back, away from the door plumping down on the edge of the cot. "This can't be happening…" Isaac mutters, balancing his head in his hands. There is no way out of this cell, this is it, Isaac deeply contemplates. This is where he's going to die…caged like an animal by his own race.

"_Isaac…"_ a scant, whispery voice calls out to him. He doesn't bother raising his head, to look up and see nothing like before. It's all in his head, the voices… _her _voice. It isn't real, just the tenacious madness pressuring against his temples, drilling into his brain.

_"Isaac…? I know you can hear me."_

Digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, Isaac gives his head a rough shake, refusing to acknowledge the ghost he knows isn't there.

"You're not real," he says. "All of it… it isn't real."

This time, he feels a hand gently resting on his kneecap. The sensation causes him to shudder, every muscle in his body tenses as if he got hit with a stun staff. Straining to stare into the blackness of his sealed eyes, Isaac finds it almost impossible to ignore the tickling gust of wind of someone's breath at his ear.

_"Even if you choose to believe that… it doesn't defeat your purpose… what It wants you to do."_

"No…" Isaac utters out, keeping his eyes clamped shut.

The voice presses on, with its eerie composure, "_Isaac…"_

"NO! Just… just fuck off, would ya? Leave me the fuck alone!" Tears begin to swell up behind his eyes. It's hard trying to persuade himself otherwise to not listen to sound of his girlfriend's disembodied voice. He knows that she's dead, been dead for a long time, yet still, a part of him breaks every time her voice chimes in from the corner of his mind.

Finally, the voice stops, granting Isaac his wish of total loneliness. Slowly sliding his hands off his face, Isaac chances a peek of his enclosed surroundings. Nothing, just as expected.

Releasing the tension out of his muscles, Isaac rests back on the cot, prompt up on his elbows. Leaning all the way back, Isaac stares up at the clammy ceiling, engraved with the strange symbols that projected before his eyes. He brings his hands up over his face, inspecting his blistered and chipped finger nails. He doesn't recall sketching those markings, but the detail is engraved into his battered hands. How many days has he been detained here? None of that matters now, or any more. This cell will be his grave… there is no getting out of—

—"HOLY SHIT!"

The words just barely escaped his throat when a demonic, twisted figure hops on top of him, pinning his wrists back over his head and trapping his torso from moving. He is unable to detach his eyes off the terrible face hovering right over his own. It's Nicole, a grotesque, decaying image of her Isaac hardly recognizes behind the bloodied strands of her blonde hair and bloodshot pilus of her once blue eyes.

Isaac is strangled by a terror in his heart that he hasn't ever felt before. Total helplessness takes hold of him.

"_YOU WANT TO GIVE UP—TO END THE PAIN?!" _The Nicole apparition shouts into Isaac's face with so much malic, Isaac doesn't think he's ever heard such anger escape someone's throat, or if it was physically possible. "_YOU DON'T HAVE THE FAINTEST CLUE OF PAIN—OF SUFFERING—OF DYING. YOU HAVEN'T EVEN SCRATCHED THE SURFACE, ISAAC. YOU DON'T HAVE OUR PERMISSION TO DIE, ISAAC CLARKE—NOT YET—ONLY WHEN WE ALLOW IT!"_

As quickly as the demonic apparition had come, it vanishes the moment Isaac blinks his eyes.

Launching up off the cot, in a cold sweat, Isaac does a three-sixty of his surroundings, making sure whatever the hell that was… was gone far away from him.

"Fuck… fuck…" holding a palm to his forehead, pivoting in place, Isaac struggles to regain his composure. His heart thumps like a hammer slamming into his chest, his breathing rapid and unsettled. Slightly at ease, Isaac sits back down on the cot starring down between his legs, looking at his bare feet.

"Man…" he exhales gripping the back of his head with clasped hands. Taking a few breaths, Isaac closes his eyes, slowing the rapid thoughts firing in his mind…

_Step One…_

"Huh?" Raising his head, Isaac glances around. It wasn't the voice, not this time, though a thought—a random thought jumping through his mind. "Step One…" he mutters aloud.

Bringing his gaze in front of him, to the cell door, he sees Nicole—not that ugly, menacing thing from earlier, but her, clear as day. She's smiling, standing… outside the cell? In the corridor.

"Isaac… it's time to go," Nicole tells him, gesturing an arm. She doesn't wait for him to get up, calming stepping out his field of vision down the corridor.

Glued to the cot, Isaac blinks several times that he isn't seeing another illusion. Nope, his eyes nor his mind isn't playing games this time… the cell door is open.

"Step One…" he mumbles again, rising up to his feet. He takes a breath then begins taking slow steps towards the open doorway.

He pauses at the threshold starring down the length of the darken corridor that looks to go on forever. _Nicole _apparently vanished into thin air. However, Isaac follows the way the apparition had went and starts that way.

Taking his first few steps, the first thing Isaac notes is the slight discomfort emerging from the soles of his shoeless feet. Also, the cool air cutting though the thin fabric of his unbutton gown. Isaac clutches the fabric closer over his chest, trying to cut out as much of the cold as possible. Isaac begins walking the length of the near quiet corridor. His walking pace is sluggish at best, given the fact that he hasn't walked no more than five feet on his own in the countless amount of days he's been here.

He passes one cell, the door also open, but no one inside. He remembers that other prisoner he heard the guards harassing the other day or so.

"Wonder whatever happened to that guy," Isaac muses to himself.

There isn't much in the cell, besides a tray of half-eaten food sitting on the floor in a corner. Most of the slimy gunk is out the tray, smeared across the floor, walls and even the ceiling. Isaac keeps moving.

His weak twigs for legs step down the low ceiling corridor, entirely encased in gunmetal black steel. Isaac identifies some of the dull metallic alloys of belonging to natural ore, like asteroid rock. In fact, the few jagged edges jutting from the walls and ceilings remind him of just that.

"What the hell is this place?" He wonders. It wows him that for weeks—months maybe, that he never truly got a full picture as to where he's been. Given the tight quarters of the corridor, lack of any windows of any kind, he can safely bet that he's underground on some backwater planet or even Earth at that. Though he doubts the latter.

Allowing his mind to continue speculating his whereabouts, Isaac passes by another cell, the door also open. A repulsive and fierce stench radiates out, striking Isaac's nostrils, causing his eyes to sting with tears.

Winching his nose to the powerful stench, Isaac dares a peek inside the gloomy lit cell. Like the last one, it's also empty of anyone, and for a good reason too. The cell floor is covered in shit… literal shit. Isaac is even able to hear the faint buzz of flies dancing over the feces. Oddly enough, the metallic, stainless steel toilet is left spotless.

"Someone had a serious case of diarrhea," Isaac jokes, shielding the cloth of his flimsy smock over his nose. He's glad his sense of humor had stuck around during his captivity. But he has to put all that aside and get that logical side of his mind working again. From his brief journey down the detention hall, he noted that not every cell was open, just a few from what he's seen thus far. Which means someone deliberately opened his door—_these_ doors, which also means there are other prisoners wandering out here like Isaac. But where the hell are they?

Making it at the end of the hall, dragging each step behind him, Isaac nears a powered off sliding door, slightly cracked open with enough space to squeeze his hand through. With the little strength he has, Isaac pushes the door open and slips through. The door slides back to its previous state once he got pass; the area ahead of him is plunged in near darkness with just the faintest of light emitting from a reflective surfaces of the walls. In time, Isaac eyes begin adjusting to the darkness and he forces himself to continue moving.

The flooring has smoothed out, no longer grated under Isaac's feet allowing him some comfort. Walking with outstretched arms gripping nothing but air, eyes squinting to see, Isaac has no idea what's ahead of him. Each footstep is a question. He doesn't hear anything but air and his own dry breaths and turbulent heart beating hard in his eardrums. If only he can find a flashlight or…

…A pair of frantic pounding footsteps come at Isaac from out of the darkness. His body connects with a solid, compact mass that knocks him off his feet and falling hard on his shoulder. A blinding, swaying white light stabs his eyeballs, following a coarse, thicken voice, shouting down at Isaac.

"Who the fuck is you?!" The deep, rabid voice demands.

Shielding the light out his eye with one hand, Isaac squints up trying to see beyond the light but can't. "What?"

The man behind the voice yanks Isaac up off the floor then roughly shoves him back against a wall. Isaac felt his organs jump from the force and his neck whiplashing back. The man grips the loose collar of Isaac's smock, his stinking breath engulfing Isaac's nose. He still can't make out his assailant for the flashlight has dangled downward towards the floor.

"Who. The fuck. Is _you_—motherfucka?!" The man repeats. "You one'a them uniformed men? The people keeping me locked up behind steel? Cuz if you are… I'ma yank yo intestine clean out from yo asshole, boy!"

"No—No, just relax, okay man?" Isaac says to the man, surprisingly calm. "I was locked up too, just like you. Had some Asari poke my brain ever so often too."

This earns some hesitation from Isaac's attacker. Soon, the man easies his grip on Isaac's smock but doesn't let him go.

"Why should I trust you, huh?" The man interrogates. "You know what—maybe I should just kill you to make sure, right?"

"No—no—no… I wouldn't do that, trust me," Isaac quickly replies. "Because if you do, you'll never get out of this place—not on your own at least."

Out of nowhere, the man tightens his grip on Isaac, this time clamping a hand to Isaac's throat. "What you just say?" The man utters in a drastically different tone—one of sudden disbelief—or anger. "Y-you know where to find my daughter? You saw her?!"

Confused as hell, Isaac squirms to find comfort in the man's grip at his throat. "What… are you talking about?"

After a painful suspense of silence, the man releases his hold on Isaac's throat. "Show me where you last saw my daughter," he says, more or less demands. "If she trusts you… then I guess I can too." The man turns his back to Isaac, entering the room he may had been in when he blindsided Isaac.

"Yeah, good to know," Isaac says, particularly to no one, clearing his throat and rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder. Having no clue what strange occurrence swayed the man's mind in not trusting him, Isaac hesitates before following behind him, into the room. He doesn't want to, but he can't see a damn thing without that guy's light. For now, he's stuck with him.

Everything is tainted in blackness, except for where the man shines the beam of his flashlight. From what Isaac can see, it's a locker room or something. The man who assaulted him is knelt down, rummaging through the lower portion of an open locker. With the light casted upward, Isaac is able to make out the man's features. He's Human, for one, dressed in a similar fashion as Isaac, although he isn't shoeless, wearing a pair of guard boots. His voice, however, doesn't match his body type at all nor his strength. The guy's actually scrawny, possibly malnourished. Hell, Isaac probably looks the same way given the fact that he had a meal whenever the guards felt like it. Just thinking about food makes Isaac's stomach tie into knot.

"Couldn't find a gun—got a knife though," the scrawny man says, still stooped low, dangling a knife blade for Isaac to see. "Catch." The guy tosses something Isaac's way, in which Isaac misses terrible, allowing whatever it is to clatter on the floor. It's a pen-size flashlight, similar to the one the guy has.

Isaac clicks the light on and begins his own search around the compacted locker room. His beam shines upon a pair of boots where he tries putting them on. They are about his size, a little big but better than stumbling around the dark with nothing at all.

"Hurry up," the man says, startling Isaac as he came over. "The faster we find Vivian… the faster we can get the hell off this rock."

Trying hard not to become a part of whatever fantasy was playing out in this guy's head, Isaac tempts a chance to get some clarity, if any is there to be found. "Vivian… she's your daughter?" He looks up at the man's face while lacing up his boots. The man doesn't say anything, just scrounges his face as if disgusted.

The man eventually nods then utters a narrow, "yeah."

Treading carefully to remain on this guy's good-side, Isaac goes on. "What… what happened to her? Why are you looking for her?"

"The men in uniforms took her away," the man begins to explain, folding his arms, "when they brought us here on the Sprawl."

_The Sprawl… _Isaac mentally notes. _We're in the Sol System after all._

"Haven't seen her in days… weeks…" the man shakes his head, "I don't even fucking know how long anymore." He releases a sigh, sliding his back against a locker until he's sitting on the floor across from Isaac. "Stopped givin' a damn after I reached day… eight-two? Eight-two, I think."

Finished tying the laces, Isaac asks, "you remember what happened before you ended up here on the Sprawl?"

Giving the question some thought, the man shakes his head, "I just remember my baby girl being taken from me by some assholes and then them throwing me in a cell. But you… you said you saw her. When, where?"

Isaac's mind goes blank with any explanation. He hasn't seen anyone but that Asari and even those memoires are splotchy at best. He doesn't remember seeing a little girl or anything at that matter. Though Isaac knows he has to lie his way out of this, there's no telling what this man is cable of doing if he derails from his fantasy train to la-la land.

"It was somewhere in the Public Sectors of the Sprawl," Isaac begins to improvise, hiding his lie with a matter-of-factly tone. "I don't remember where or how long ago, but if we figure a way out of here… we'll find her."

The man narrows his gaze at Isaac, the shadow of his brow highlighted by the active flashlight set between them. "But I thought you said you helped her get away," he says. "From the uniformed men that took her in the first place…?"

"I… did," Isaac lies, suppressing the quiver of his voice. "I told her to run… I held the uniformed men off so she could escape and then they grabbed me and took me here, to where ever this place is. I'm sorry if it isn't enough information, but your daughter's out there and we're gonna find her. But we have to find a way out of this place first."

Breaking the man's rough face, a weak smile comes through. The man then stands to his feet, offering a hand for Isaac to take. Isaac grips the man's hand who pulls him standing.

"I'm Isaac," Isaac introduces himself.

"I'm…my name is Nick," the man tells him, loosening his grip. "And so to make things clear between us… if you fuckin' with me… and this whole thing's a set up," Nick brandishes the knife. "You're gonna wish we never met, is that understood, _Isaac?_"

Swallowing a dry lump, Isaac simply nods his head.

Nick passes him by, heading back into the corridor.

_What the hell am I getting myself into?_ Isaac contemplates with a shallow sigh. This Nick guy is unstable, but he may be Isaac's only shot to freedom. That's if he doesn't try to kill him first.

* * *

Isaac and Nick head down the corridor, shining their lights across every space before them. The lights are good, but the darkness of this corridor just swallows them up. It becomes apparent to Isaac that the power has blown out in this sector, for what reason, he doesn't know.

The pair remain relatively quiet, passing through another door and heading up a set of stairs arriving on a new level altogether. In truth, they are stumbling around in a darken maze with no idea what lies beyond each corner.

"That's strange," Isaac mutters.

"What?" Nick asks.

"Haven't ran across any guards or anyone else… they must have evacuated this section, cut the power too."

"Why would they cut the power?" Nick questions.

Isaac shakes his head, "no idea. I heard the guards running from something, scared shitless. Something about a _Phase One_. Any of that makes sense to you?"

Nick grumbles something inaudible, Isaac takes it as a no.

"Maybe the power outage is what opened our cells," Isaac contemplates, trying to get his mind thinking about all this. "But it was just certain cells that were open… not all of them…" Which points to this entire thing being premeditated. Someone wanted them out their cells, for all Isaac knows, he and Nick can be walking into a trap. Then if that's the case, Isaac'll have to be quick on his feet. If they waltz in on an ambush, he'll have to toss Nick into the line of fire and escape. It's a morbid idea… but he hardly knows the guy—and he's already threaten to kill him… _twice_.

_Sorry Nick… better you than me, pal._

Suddenly, Nick sticks his arm out across Isaac's chest, halting their movement.

"You hear that?" Nick asks.

Isaac doesn't reply, instead he holds his breath, trying to pick up on what Nick had heard. When he hears nothing, he asks, "what was—"

"Shhhh! Shh!" Nick quiets him down. When his noise stops echoing, Isaac does in fact hear something… a distant shriek emitting from down the corridor, followed by a series of thumps, like equipment falling to the floor.

"It's this way," Nick says dashing through the darkness, Isaac trailing behind him.

He tries keeping up with Nick's gait, but the taller man's stride out preforms his weak, limp of a walk. "Nick!" He calls out to him, trying to slow him down when he veers around a corner at the end of the corridor. "Nick—slow down!"

Nick just keeps going, leaving Isaac in the dust. By the time Isaac rounds the corner, Nick had already passed through a door leading to another set of stairs going upward. Isaac climbs the steps, finding himself winded after just a few. His lungs beginning to sting forcing him to rely on all fours, literally climbing the steps like a four-legged animal.

Reaching the top of the steps, his lungs feeling like they'll bursts open, Isaac thrusts through the door where he is bombarded by an assortment of voices, all shouting and screaming over one another ending in a messy echo. He easily makes out a woman, Nick… and another guy's voice he finds awfully too familiar.

Sucking in a tired breath after breath, Isaac drags his feet down the short corridor leading him into a near darken foyer resembling an office wing or maybe a hospital. A few emergency lights along with the crimson, neon glow of exit signs emit just enough ambient light for Isaac to make out the two other people.

He sees Nick, restraining a Human man who looks half-starved and out-of-his mind. The woman, also Human, cowers behind a receptionist desk shouting to keep the half-starved man away from her. From what Isaac can see, her hands are covered in blood, whose blood is the question. None of them see Isaac walk in on the commotion.

"Hang back—hang back…!" Nick shouts over and over into the skinny man's ear while shoving his shoulder into the other man's chest.

On top of that, the dark haired woman continues to shout, "Keep him away—don't let him near me!"

The half-starved man utters the same thing repeatedly, while desperately trying to lunge pass Nick to reach the hysterical woman. "I can fix her—I can show her the enlightenment!" His hands, like the woman's are bloodied too, his face too, blacken blood stains his upper lip.

All their voices jumble into a contorted mangled mess of confusion, cascading up to the high ceiling of this foyer. All this noise… Isaac fears someone is going to hear them—possibly ruin their chances of escape. He has to find a way to shut them the hell up.

"You guys…" Isaac tries to say, waddling into the mess. His voice is easily drowned out by their maddening shouting. "Hey guys, you gotta quiet down…"

"…Keep him back…!"

"…Stop man…! Hang back…!"

"…ENLIGHTENMENT…!"

Isaac shakes his head, _fuck it._

Taking a long stride, Isaac wedges himself between the half-starved man and Nick, managing to separate the two. "STOP!"

The half-starved man fixes a lingering stare on Isaac, an inert smile twisting his lips. "You…?" He whispers, backing out of Isaac's hand holding him back. "you…you…_you,_" now singing his words in a morose melody. "Isaac Clarke… the voices…. They spoke about you."

Relaxing his ridged stance, Isaac eyeballs the crazed man. He's heard his voice before… back in the cell—the guy the guards were harassing. This is him.

"You're the one who made it scream. Made it hurt," the crazed man goes on, in an almost hissing tone, "made it bleed."

"How do you know me?" Isaac questions.

"The voices… t-they—they speak to me—told me everything…" The half-starved man utters out, jittering maddening laugher. "Don't t-they speak to you—t-tell you things?"

"Don't buy anything he say to you," Nick says. "Man's always been on the nutty side."

_Yeah, and you're just the poster-child of sanity yourself…_ Isaac wanted to say real badly but refrains from doing so.

"Kuttner's right," the woman speaks this time, standing up off the floor. Just like the man who was troubling her, she is also frail, even in the low lighting, she looks like a standing skeleton. "But I think we're all losing our minds here."

"Kuttner?" Isaac recalls, lowering his arms back to his side. For now, the tension has diminished.

"Me," Nick says to him. "It's my full name: Nicholas Kuttner. You've already met Stross' craze-ass," he points to the half-starved man, holding a distraught grin.

"And I'm Isabel—Isabel Cho," the woman says, still hesitative on approaching the group.

"I'm Isaac Clarke," Isaac tells the group. "But I guess _some_ of you knew that…" he says, eyeing Stross. "So you guys know each other?"

Neither of them reply right away, looking at one another as if some big secret was set between them. Nick is the one who breaks the silence, "yeah, met onboard a Concordance transport craft… the _USM_ _Abraxis. _We were locked up then too, in a brig onboard the ship."

Surprised on how much Nick remembers prior to the Sprawl, Isaac begins to feel a bit resented when he asked Nick earlier about anything preceding their current situation. He guess it was due to the fact that Nick didn't know him from Adam.

"There were these people that interrogated us," Nick goes on, "the men in uniforms…asked us questions about some incident that occurred on another ship."

"They then brought us here," Isabel chimes in, finally stepping from behind the desk, joining the group. She does maintain her distance from Stross who has calmed down dramatically, although the man isn't participating in the conversation at all. He's too busy waddling around the foyer, flaring his arms wildly and mumbling a constant flow of words under his breath.

"Detained us in prison holds only to be subjugated by some Asari bitch poking around in our heads," Isabel finishes explaining.

"Wait—wait, just… back up here for a second," Isaac says slowing this fast developing conversation down. "Now you guys said there was an incident that happened onboard another ship you came off of just before the _Abraxis _took you in?"

Both Nick and Isabel hesitatively nod this confirmation.

"Do you remember what happened specifically?"

"Why do you want to know?" Isabel challenges, narrowing her gaze on Isaac. "Why are you even here—I don't recall you being on the _Abraxis?"_

"Because I think the same thing happened to me," Isaac says. "Only I was on a planet cracker ship: _USG Ishimura. _I don't remember why or how it happened… but everyone onboard died. My… my girlfriend, Nicole, too."

A heavy silence transpires with the exceptions of Stross' inaudible mumbling filling it. Isaac gazes at the floor, not trying to replay that painful memory—his only detailed memory of watching Nicole commit suicide.

"I just remember hearing it was a terrorists attack," Nick says with a half shrug, breaking the extensive pause. "And that _we _were the terrorist. But that can't be true," his eyes shift over to Isabel, "right? I mean… I have a daughter to live for, man. I wouldn't do some dumbass terrorist shit!"

"Well, I wouldn't know, Kuttner, I hardly know you or Stross at all," Isabel says, her voice slightly harsher than before. "I just know the Concordance wouldn't lock us up like animals just to be some Asari's lab rats. Then again…" she nervously grabs her left elbow with her right hand, "I could be wrong."

"Well we aren't gonna figure anything out standing here," Isaac says. "We need to get moving, find out where exactly we are in the Sprawl and get some answers."

"And find Vivian," Nick adds.

Isaac nods to that, "yeah, and that." He gravels out, feeling a bit ashamed for lying to the man about seeing his daughter. How pissed will he get if—_when _he finds out it was bullshit…?

…Startling all three of them, Stross begins shouting to the high ceiling, "You can't run nor hide from the changing!" The crazed man exclaiming with outstretched arms, his voice booming. "It's already begun! Written in stone with Human blood…! We've unleashed its power…! But now—NOW it'll show us the path to enlightenment!"

"Man's gotten crazier since the last time I saw him," Nick says, shaking his head in disbelief.

"We should leave him," Isabel proposes. "He'll only make things harder for us."

"We can't," Isaac says, earning an affronting gleam from the woman. "Like you said, there's gotta be a reason the Concordance holding us prisoner. And in that fucked up head of his may be that reason. You and Nick already remember more than I ever could, there's no telling what Stross'll tell us."

"Yeah, that's if he doesn't try to bite your face off first!" Isabel counters. She allows herself to calm a little then continues with, "he's your responsibility. He slows us down or tries to hurt any of us… we're cutting him loose."

Isaac nods to that.

Isabel is the first to depart from the group, leading the way towards a set of stairs going up to the second level of the foyer. Nick shares a brief glance of concern with Isaac before following after Isabel.

Isaac sighs then turns to see Stross still wandering around in the dark. "Hey Stross, we're leaving."

When the man doesn't acknowledge that he heard him, Isaac walks over to him, cautions in keeping a relative safe distance. Stross is like a wild animal let out of its cage, but Isaac hopes there's still some Humanity left in that slushed out brain of his.

"Come on Stross, don't get left behind," Isaac tries to coax the man out of his madness.

His efforts seem to pay off when Stross suddenly stops in his aimless pacing then brings his gaze on Isaac. "Isaac…" he hollows out, eyes widen like a deer in headlights "the enlight—"

"Yeah—yeah the 'enlightenment'," Isaac cuts him off. "It's this way," he thumbs over his own shoulder. "Come on."

Stross clamps both hands over his own mouth, almost like suppressing himself from saying something he isn't supposed to, then passes Isaac by.

Sighing deeply, Isaac shakes his head then turns to follow after Stross. As he is, he catches a glimpse of Nicole, standing dead-center in the darken foyer. Isaac forces himself from looking at her, though he feels her ghostly gaze upon him.

_Step One…_ The thought passes through his mind again, causing a sudden migraine to assault his brain. Step One…What does it mean? Why is _she_ here again? What does _It_ want?

* * *

_A/N: So let's see... Aiden shits his pants... Isaac lies to a crazy person... 3 delusional people and a psychopath join forces...humm... what can possible go wrong?_


	9. Nine

**Nine** :::

**Influenced by Madness**

* * *

The atrium is large and all but abandoned in what looked like a frantic escape from whatever had happened here. Trash and debris litter the floor, chairs and tables flipped over… doors blocked with stretchers. Isaac takes it all in while following his new pals who are supposedly stuck together in the same predicament as he is. Even though he has his doubts, Isaac doesn't bother bringing up his suspicions. He knows it's key in maintaining a positive relationship with these people. As far as he knows it, they're all fucked two ways sideways. Each of them, from what they told him, were employees of the Concordance and were also held captive and experimented on by the Asari. Surely there has to be a reason behind their torment? Isaac can't help but wonder what part he plays in it all… and why he keeps seeing _her._

For the time being, the group is holding up surprisingly well as they navigate the second floor of this atrium. There are five floors altogether but the third on up can only be access by elevator and emergency stairways, and with the power out, reaching them will be a problem. So far, most of the stairway doors have been locked.

Trailing behind Stross, Isaac does his part in keeping the crazed man on target with their objective in finding a way out of here. So far, Stross is cooperating, following behind Nick who is walking alongside Isabel. Through the low lighting provided by the numerous emergency lights scattered about, Isaac can't make out what the two are saying. He can only hear the distant, inaudible dribble of their words numbing out into the acoustical atrium. Occasionally, Nick looks back at Isaac, probably keeping tabs on him since Isaac said he helped his daughter escape from whoever took her. Even though Isaac has no relative memory of the matter—besides being locked in a featureless cell—he continues to play along with the man's fantasy. How long will he have to play this charade until the punchline? Isaac ever wonders.

After surveying the second level of the foyer, Isaac begins to piece together that this atrium may be a main lobby for a hospital. The ground and second floor are just office wings whereas the actual hospital is above their heads on the next few levels. There, Isaac believes it their way out… if they can get to it.

"Damnit!" Isabel exclaims, nosily banging her hands against yet another locked exit doorway. "Why're all these damn doors freakin' locked?!"

"It's a power outage," Nick says to her. "Doors might have some sort of protocol to lock whenever there is one."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Isaac says, gathering their attention. "Emergency doors don't lock themselves during a power outage. Someone did them remotely."

"Remotely?" Isabel recalls with a hint of suspicion in her tone. "And you'll know this how, exactly?"

Isaac shakes his head, "I don't. But something tells me this wasn't just some routine outage—I mean, haven't any of you been paying attention? Something happened here. Back in my cell… I heard gunfire—guard's shitting themselves in panic over something."

"You think this some attack?" Nick queries. "Like dem terrorists who attacked them ships we were on? The _real_ motherfuckers behind this shit?!"

"Yeah, let's not get carried away, shall we?" Isabel says. "Now there's gotta be a logical reason for all this…"

"There is," Isaac interjected. "Vague, but some pieces are coming together… like how our cells were opened and how we were all lead to the same place at nearly the same time. I think whatever is going on here on the Sprawl may be linked to us—somehow…"

Isaac feels his skin crawl when a cold hand rests upon his shoulder. Startled, Isaac turns his attention to Stross now standing shouldered to him. The man stares deep into Isaac's eyes—their faces so close Isaac can see his own upside down reflection in the craze man's watery-red eyes.

"There's a connection between us—yes—that's what it wanted all along," Stross dribbles out. "This… _this! _It's just the beginning of our end, and its salvation."

"Keep talking and you might meet your _salvation_ sooner," Isabel mutters to herself, though Isaac and maybe Nick and even Stross heard her.

"Yeah well," Isaac begins to say, shaking Stross' hand off his shoulder. "All coincidences aside… the hard fact is that someone tripped a protocol which locked these doors, possibly preventing us from escaping… or something else from getting out."

Isaac takes a short step away from the group, approaching a low guardrail overlooking the ground floor of the atrium below. He steers his gaze up to the upper floors, scanning his eyes across the ambient dark in a hope of finding a service ladder or something to get them up there. As he's searching the atrium with his eyes, an idea comes hurling towards his mind.

"The elevator shaft," Isaac says aloud, turning to face the group. "It's the only way to the upper floors."

Isabel slowly bobs her head, "It might work," she says.

"It _will,_ as long as we work together," Isaac proclaims. Though his confident statement takes a dent when Stross starts to pace in place, gripping his head with both hands and stuttering a slew of nonsense. He's totally losing his fucking marbles, each passing second, and there's no telling how far his insanity will go and if he'll erupt and try to attack any of them like he did Isabel.

"Like I said," Isabel begins to say, folding her arms. "It _might _work."

Regardless of Stross' shattered state of mind, Isaac refuses to let it hinder their chance of escape. "Look, let's just look for something—anything to get the elevator doors open," Isaac tells them.

Wordlessly, Isabel unfolds her arms and proceeds to do as planned. Nick soon follows suite while Stross… well Stross is being his usual self. So long as the man doesn't try to fling himself over the foyer railing then he should be fine. If he does though, well, Isaac won't have to worry about keeping track with him. Then again, all the possible secrets crammed in that head of his may be the key in unraveling the reason for them being here now. That's if he's even sane enough to convey them.

Shaking his head clear of the things he can't control, Isaac focuses on the aspects at his disposal. Echoing loudly through the airy foyer, a series of crashes, glass shattering and wood splintering tells Isaac that Nick and Isabel are taking his instructions way too seriously. There are plenty of offices to search, all of which might not have anything of usefulness to get the door open. Though Isaac believes the two are blowing off overheated hate trapped inside of them. He can't blame them. Every waking second he spent in that cell—every time those guards dragged him out of his sleep for another mind rape from that Asari… he wanted to kill one of them. He fascinated hurting one of them—_all _of them… make them feel the way he felt…

Noticing his hands are tightly balled into fists, Isaac relaxes. The ear-thumping noise of Nick and Isabel's searches pulls him back into the stark reality of his existence. No more screwing around, Isaac gets moving and his brain working. He walks pass Stross, dodging the sudden flaring of the man's arms by inches, Isaac approaches the powered off elevator on the opposite end of the foyer.

Isaac glides his hands over the smooth, metallic face of the elevator doors, his fingertip slipping into the crease tracing down the middle. With just the tips of his fingers, he doesn't have enough leverage to slide the doors aside, not even if all four… _three_ of them combined could do it. Not that they have the strength to do so anyway. They have to find a tool, something—anything. Isaac can't believe something as trivial as this keeps them from progressing.

"How we looking with a… crowbar guys?" Isaac asks out as he continues to struggle to open the door with just his fingers with no avail.

"Naw man I don't got shit!" Nick hollers over.

"Pretty much the same over here," Isabel follows soon after.

Isaacs's fingers slip across the metal chipping a jagged nail in his index finger. "Son of a bitch!" He swears out waving his hand to ease the pain; anger snakes up his spine overpowering his mind. "Can't… fucking… believe this!" Isaac shouts, kicking the elevator door repeatedly.

Resting his forehead on the cool metal surface, Isaac closes his eyes and purges the anger out of his system. He isn't accomplishing anything by being mad at himself, if this plan isn't going to work then he better come up with a plan B.

"Come on… think of something you idiot!" Isaac mutters to himself, slamming a balled fist into the elevator door. If it was one thing that stuck in Isaac's shattered mind in remembering who was before all this, he noted he had a knack of seeing things out the box. While locked in confinement for months on end, his mind randomly generated complex math problems, musing on physics equations and conservation of energy laws. In other words, he was some sort of mathematician or engineer or something across that line. But his new self… this _Isaac _is nothing like his old self. His mind forever suppressed by numbness, by thoughts that don't make a lick of sense and hallucinations of things he knows aren't there. The old Isaac is dead, but that doesn't mean a remnant of his former self doesn't reside in him now.

Holding faith to that notion, Isaac opens his eyes and exhales a deep breath through his nostrils. Backing away from the closed off elevator, he turns around facing the openness of the atrium. Trying to stimulate that outward thinking part of his mind, Isaac begins musing alternative ways of reaching the next level. Just by examining the distances between the floor he's currently standing on to the next, he speculates it's about five meters apart—roughly fifteen feet— with an additional three feet due to the declarative banister. A series of support beams maintain the above floors, though Isaac doesn't believe they could scale them up, given the weaken state of their bodies.

So climbing's out of the equation. Now if only they could fly…

_Fly, _Isaac contemplates on the silly, outrageous thought. But the more he ponders on it… the more it settles in his mind as a possibility. Not flying of course, but rather defying the artificial gravity of this atrium… using some sort of a device—

"A kinesis module… of course!" Isaac slams his hands on the railing in excitement. He has a plan B—a plausible plan that could—no, _will _work this time. They don't have to get everyone to the next level, just one person who can unlock a locked emergency exit door from the other side. Now the only thing is to find a kinesis module laying around…

Rubbing the back of his neck, Isaac takes stock of his surroundings where he makes out a mapped directory plastered on a nearby pillar. Running over to it, Isaac squints to make out the map's features in words since it's so dark. He finds his location in relation to the map and discovers that there is a maintenance room just down the hall.

"There we go," Isaac muses aloud to himself. He takes his gaze off the directory and stares down the length of the foyer to where he eyes the double doors leading to the maintenance room.

Quickly stepping down the hall, Isaac's path is intercepted by Nick who steps out of an office doorway, "man there ain't anything here to get those doors open."

"It's okay, just come with me," Isaac says passing Nick by.

The man joins him at his side, matching his quicken walking pace, "you found a way outta here?" Nick asks.

"Something like that," Isaac replies. "The elevator isn't an option, we weren't ever going to get it open… but I have another idea…" Along the way down the foyer, Isaac briefly explains to Nick his radical plan.

"Really man?" Nick recalls with a raised eyebrow. "Don't know how you came up with a plan like that."

"Desperation," Isaac simply replies. "There isn't any other way… it's the only card we have left to play."

The two men reach the flimsy maintenance doors where, not surprisingly, they're locked.

"Right here," Nick says, pointing out to Isaac a nearby sitting bench lined adjacent to the doorway against the wall. "We can use it to bust down the door."

Isaac nods his confirmation to the idea, getting on the opposite end of the bench. "On three," Isaac says bending at the knees, getting a firm grip on the bench. "One… two… three!"

Pushing off with the little strength in his legs, Isaac's lifts his end of the bench, finding it much heavier than it looked. The wimpy muscles in his arms instantly sting with pain. The rough edges of the bench underbelly dig into the palm of his hands, drawing blood. Isaac grits his teeth, trying to counter act the pain assaulting him.

"You good man?" Nick asks easily holding up his end.

Gathering his wits, Isaac nods then urges out a, "yeah."

He and Nick position the bench at a lengthways vertical angel in front of the door and begin ramming it into the slight opening set between the two doors. Over and over they try, gaining some purchase as the lock holding the two doors lurches and binds under the force.

"Com'on! We almost there!" Nick encourages.

Isaac, sweat streaming down his face already, admires Nick's determination and tries to latch on to it.

"Com'on! One—two—three—PUSH! One—two—three—PUSH! One—two—three—PUSH…!"

Over and over they strike the door. Isaac's arms run numb with fatigue. He has nothing else to give, though he struggles on, until finally… the lock gives way and the doors blasts apart granting them entry into the maintenance room.

Isaac drops his end of the bench and inspects his hands. They aren't as bad as they felt, just a bleeding minor cut in his left palm and nothing more.

Nick comes up from behind tapping a hand on Isaac's shoulder, "you straight?"

Isaac only nods taking his gaze off his hands and looks up at the space in front of him. Like the atrium, the maintenance room is chocked in shadow, even more since there aren't any emergency lights in here at all. Besides that, Isaac is able to tell that the room is small. Lined against the wall are a set of lockers, probably belonging to the numerous engineers that upheld this section of the hospitals.

"So you think there's a kinesis module in here?" Nick asks.

"There's gotta be," Isaac replies approaching one of the lockers. A few are padlocked, but to his fortune, Isaac runs across a locker without a lock and instantly opens it. Franticly searching the inside of it, Isaac finds nothing of value—most importantly a kinesis module.

"Shit!" He swears, slamming the small locker door shut. Crouching low, Isaac runs a hand across the series of padlocks along the middle row of lockers where he discovers another unlocked locker. His heart thumping with anxiety, Isaac reaches a hand through the darken space where he feels the rouged contours of a kinesis module.

"Yes—yes—yes!" Pulling the wristband device out, Isaac confirms that it is in fact the device he has had his mind set on. "Oh, this is perfect!"

"You got it?" Nick asks from behind, standing by the doors.

"Yep," Isaac replies, fitting the device onto this skinny wrist. Tightening the wristband so that it fits snuggly. "Moment of truth," turning around, Isaac faces Nick. Eyeing the bench they used to gain entry into the room, Isaac aims the prongs extending from the kinesis module, he presses the button resting in his palm of which activates the near-visible beam of the module. He hardly sees the beam reaching out and grabbing the bench, though he feels that familiar lurch of the device as it begins dragging the bench across the floor and near him.

"Okay…! That's what I'm talking about!" Isaac cancels the field, releasing its invisible hold on the bench. "Now we're getting somewhere."

* * *

Leaving the maintenance room, Isaac and Nick regroup with Isabel and Stross, the latter of which has somehow managed to calm down dramatically. No longer prancing and talking nonsense, Stross is abnormally quiet, standing with his arms folded, back leaning against the railing of the foyer. When Isaac and Nick near, the man actually looks up with a pondering look chiseled on his face.

"What the hell were you two doing?" Isabel asks approaching the two as they came walking down the foyer. "All I heard was shouting and banging."

"We had a little trouble getting through a door down the hall," Nick begins to explain. "But Isaac here has another plan on us reaching the next floor."

Isabel's eyes land on Isaac, more specifically the kinesis module strapped around his wrists, "and I'm guessing that has a part in it?" She asks.

"It's going to sound crazy, but hear me out," Isaac begins to say. "We're going to need to lift someone up to the third floor. From there, we can get the emergency door open from the other side. These things have a max range of about nine meters—I did the math… that's plenty of reach for us to reach that floor."

Isabel blinks perplexingly to where Isaac is going with all this, "so this plan of yours requires _you_ to send one of _us_ up there using that thing?"

"Actually… it's going to have to be you," Isaac says.

For a moment, the woman just stares at Isaac with a mix expression of shock and confusion. And then, she releases a nervous laugh then says, "you… you're joking, right? _Right?"_

"You're the smallest of the three of us," Nick's deep voice pitches in. "Now I don't even know how this kinesis…thingamajig, even works. And besides, you'll be the easiest for Isaac to lift and we sure as shit ain't sending Stross."

Upon hearing his name, Stross shoots his head up and stares at Nick. Surprisingly, the man doesn't lash out or does something irrational. Instead, he folds back into his eerie quiet state of being.

"Okay so… say I do this," Isabel says. "How exactly are you getting me up there—because, I've never been kinesised before."

"I won't be using it on you… rather an object," Isaac explains. "Organic flesh is tricky when it comes to these things, if I can remember correctly. You'll have to sit or stand on something. It'll make the entire thing easier on the both of us."

Nodding nervously to the plan, Isabel says, "alright, I'll… I'll do it. But you have to promise me something."

Isaac shrugs, "what's that?"

"Don't fucking drop me!"

* * *

Nick went in search for a stable enough platform of which Isabel can stand on, while Isaac continues to tinker with the kinesis module at his wrist. Stross remains in his reserved shell, not speaking—rather shouting, at anyone at the moment. Though Isaac can hear the man muttering something under his breath, occasionally shaking his head and saying, _"_no—no—no…" over and over to something playing out in that messed up head of his. Though Isaac believes if the man maintains this attitude than things should pan out fine further down the line.

"So you've done this before?" Isabel asks joining Isaac by the railing.

"I have some experience—yeah," Isaac replies, giving her some reassurance. He glances in her direction for a moment, catching the frighten look written across her face. Why wouldn't she be scared?

Sighing, Isaac continues to say, "I mean I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing. Before coming here on the Sprawl, I believe I served as an engineer or some kind… I don't know."

Isabel only nods to all he said, she's still in a nervous wreck. For a moment, an extended pause ushered its way between them, whereas the only sound came from Stross' distant mumbling. The silence is cut by Isabel's voice.

"I lied about not knowing Kuttner that well," she begins to say, folding her arms on top the banister. "He and Stross… I served with them onboard the _USG O'Bannon. _We were a part of some artifact retrieval team. I still can't remember what for or why," she sighs arching her head up. "Guess it doesn't matter anymore now."

"It matters," Isaac insures her. "Our pasts are the reason we're in this very spot. Once we get out of here we're going to find out why."

"Not sure if I want to find out," Isabel replies, her voice quivers a bit. "Sometimes I… I see things," she starts to say, earning Isaac's full attention. He can tell, by the look in her eye that she wants him to know she isn't trying to sound crazy but speaking the truth.

"I hear these voices in my head… thoughts that aren't my own," she pauses for a moment, shaking her head. "It's like I've contracted schizophrenia or something."

"Trust me, I know," Isaac tells her. "Just a few minutes ago I thought I saw…" he stops himself short, starring down at the ground floor where he remembers seeing Nicole's sudden appearance. Right now, the floor is barren of any life or activity.

"I remember when we were onboard the _Abraxis," _Isabel says, changing the subject. "Kuttner told us that he was seeing his daughter, Vivian. Only that she died in a freak incident some months ago, back on Earth."

"I figured much," Isaac says, but now that he knows, he feels even worst for lying to the guy about seeing her himself. "I don't think he can see pass the illusions like you and me."

"Or he just chose to accept them as real," Isabel insights. "For a second, when I was locked up here… and the illusions were the only thing I could actually talk to… I was ready to give in to my madness as a means to escape this hell."

Isaac dips his head low, starring at the floor. Every detail she shares is like a reflection of his own thoughts and experiences. He feels a little bit at ease knowing that someone else shared his suffering.

"Still, he isn't as far gone as _some_," Isabel nods her head over in Stross' direction.

"What's his story?" Isaac asks.

Before Isabel can offer some insight on Stross, Nick gathers their attention. The man is holding a small four-legged desk. "I found this," he says. "This good enough?"

The desktop is small, it can only hold one person at that. Though it isn't Isaac's say to use it for he won't be the one standing on it and levitating thirty five feet above the ground floor.

"It'll do," Isabel says. She looks up at Isaac and gives him a shrug, "let's just get this over with."

Her legs visibly shaking as she climbs onto the desk, Isabel grabs hold of the banister for support.

Isaac stands nearby, prepared to take her up. An equal amount of nervousness runs through him too. Her life is literally in his hands… he can't mess this up.

"Ready Isabel?" Isaac asks.

The woman can only nod her head. She slowly removes her grip from the railing until the only thing supporting her are her own two legs.

Swallowing an edgy lump in his throat, Isaac aims the kinesis module at the desk then activates the beam. Isabel yelps at the sudden shift of the desk, sticking her arms out for balance.

"It's alright—you're alright," Isaac reassured. "I got a hold of ya… just hang on and try not to move too much, okay?"

"Uh-huh," Isabel utters nodding her head.

His heart in his throat, Isaac begins to lift Isabel and the desk off the floor. He motions his arm upward, having to over extend his reach in accordance to the slight bending delay in the kinesis beam.

"Okay…" now getting the gist of the device, Isaac manages to lift the desk a few inches off the ground. With a little more effort, the desk clears the top of the banister.

_Now for the fun part, _Isaac contemplates taking a deep sigh.

Trusting in his ability, Isaac slowly brings Isabel over the railing until nothing but air is beneath her. The only thing supporting her now besides the desk is Isaac's concentration and nerves of steel. Isabel is holding it together quite well too, so Isaac begins the daunting part of this endeavor…

"Alright, we're gonna start going up, you ready?"

"Y-yeah," Isabel replies.

"Okay then," Isaac says, taking a split second glance at Nick standing at his side with arms folded. Isaac gave Nick a task to keep an eye on Stross and make sure he doesn't try anything to interfere with this. So far Stross is keeping his crap together.

Settling himself, Isaac begins taking Isabel up. Higher and higher she goes at a steady pace until Isaac loses sight of her due to the ceiling of the foyer severing his view. Quickly, he races to a new vantage point, rounding around a support pillar until he regains sight of her. His goal is to keep her aligned straight up, like an elevator, through the kinesis module begins having a mind of its own. The beam tries sending Isabel out further over the openness of the atrium, though Isaac counteracts the devices urge in doing so by stepping himself back a few paces. Each time he does however, he loses sight of Isabel.

"You're doing good," Nick says spotting for Isaac. "just keep doin' what you doin'."

"Is she almost there?" Isaac asks, his finger numbingly pressing down on the lift button keeping the beam active.

"Halfway—yeah," Nick informs, now leaning forward against the banister, arching his head upward. "I'll tell you how to keep her straight."

With Nick acting as his eyes, Isaac relies on the man's input. "Ight… just a little to the right…" Nick instructs. "Hold it right there… keep her goin up, just like five more feet and she'll be there."

Everything is going smoother than Isaac could have ever thought. In a matter of moments, they will surpass this detour and hopefully find some answers behind what happened to them and what's going on now. Suddenly, Isaac feels the vibrating lurch of the kinesis moduel on his wrists, indicating that it has reached its reach limitation.

Jumping him out of his cheerful thoughts, Isaac here's both Nick and Isabel shouting for him.

"Oh! Wait—wait—wait—stop!" Nick flutters out.

Isaac takes his finger off the lift button and hurries over to Nick's side. A horrifying feeling overtakes Isaac, "what happened?"

Nick waves Isaac over to see for himself. Joining Nick at the rail, Isaac bends his neck upward where he sees Isabel maintaining her balance on the floating desk… but she's just barely leveled with the third floor.

"Was that you? That shaking I felt?" Isabel says.

"Sorry, that meant the beam maxed out," Isaac explains.

"_Maxed out_?! You mean this is how far I can go?"

Isaac nods his head apologetically, "yeah. I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to try and jump for that railing."

Isabel manages to casts a hostile look down Isaac's way, "are you fucking kidding me—there's no way I can do that!"

"Yes, you can," Isaac encourages. "You've already made it this far, Isabel. Now if you don't jump than we'll be stuck here forever, is that what you want?"

"Yeah, and if I jump and miss—which is going to happen—then we'll be stuck here and I'll be dead!"

"I'll catch you," Isaac ensures her. "Just trust me on this—trust yourself!"

An extended pause emits soon after where Isabel finally comebacks with, "if I die… then your girlfriend won't be the only ghost you'll be seeing."

Although her words came out sternly and her sarcastic melancholic, Isaac actually manages a thin smile.

Without further words or preparation, Isabel leaps off the desk. Her body collides into the banister of the railing where she manages to hook onto. Her legs dangle freely over the open space, where Isaac believes she is beginning to lose her grip. Though amazingly, Isabel manages to pull herself up and over the railing until finally making it safety on the other side.

Isaac utters a huge sigh of relief earning a hard pat on the back by Nick. She made it, the hard part is finally over.

"Can't believe that half-assed plan actually worked," Isaac chuckles out, disabling the kinesis beam and allowing the desk to come hurling down to the ground floor where it crashes with a thunderous bang.

"Who you tellin'?" Nick says, "there's no wonder why Vivian trusted you so much."

Isaac's smile instantly evaporates when Nick said that. Just when he thought the man had enough sense in his head like he and Isabel, Nick always reminded him otherwise. That man who pushed him against a wall and threaten to kill him is still there, it's just masked over this shroud of confusion that has crippled Nick's mind.

"Hey!" Isabel hollers down at the two getting their attention, "I'm going to open the door over there," she points across the atrium on the other side. Both Isaac and Nick nod their confirmations.

Now it's time to get a move on. They've wasted more than enough time hanging around this atrium and Isaac is itching to get to newer ground fast. There is no time for high-fiving one another, Isaac fears this is just the beginning of their troubles.

* * *

Emerging from the stairwell to the third floor, the first thing that captures Isaac's eyes is the amount of trash and debris littering the floor. Stretchers tipped over on their sides, random sheets and blankets sprawled about. It looks just as destroyed as the floor they just left. Yet, unlike the second floor, the third level foyer is absent of offices or any other accommodations. Just a singular doorway, similar to the double doors Isaac and Nick crashed through leading off somewhere deeper into the hospital.

Nick tries passing through the doors where the group discovered that it's chained locked from the other side. However, when pushed back far enough, the two sets of doors jut open just enough for each of them to squeeze through one at a time.

"Right… I'll go first," Nick volunteers clicking his flashlight active. Isaac and surprisingly, Stross help push and hold the doors open for Nick to crawl on through the slight opening. Once he was through, Isaac beckons Isabel to go next.

"Alright, your turn Stross," Isaac says to the man.

"My turn, is yet to come, Isaac—you'll see," Stross says randomly.

"Whatever, just move your ass."

Without a fuss, Stross crawls his way under the chains and through the opening and then lastly Isaac.

Arriving on the other side, Isaac turns around where he sees the three of them abruptly standing still, looking at something on the floor. Coming over, Isaac sees what holds their collective attention: blood. A whole lot of it stains the floor.

"I guess we gonna find out what happened here," Nick says.

"Looks like a massacre took place," Isabel says. "Now I'm beginning to wonder why they had that door chained up."

"To keep something out," Isaac speculates. He shines his light beam for the wall, "those look like bullet holes."

"Yeah, I got some thermal clips right here," Nick points out shining his light further down the blacken corridor. The red streak of blood continues to flow on and out of reach of Nick's light. Just by looking at it, Isaac believes someone was dragged down the hall, bleeding like mad. "What the fuck happened here?"

Taken aback by the carnage, no one—not even Stross utters a sound. Isaac is the first to speak. "There's only one way now," he says taking the first step into the blacken corridor. He glances back at them. "This way."

* * *

_A/N: I know... not as crazy and chaotic as the other chapters, but trust me, there is plenty crazy-chaotic coming down the line... ;-p_


	10. Ten

**Ten :::**

**Them or Us**

* * *

_A/N: Okay... sorry for the massive gap but here I am finally back! Let's get this fic going again!_

* * *

A single hard push sends the flimsy, metal frame door flying far back on its hinges. The echoing flange of metal belches out into the next area, leading Isaac and the group out from the darkness of the blood soaked corridor behind them.

Isaac and Nick's flashlights stab the darkness, illuminating an image of their newly found area. The room looks to be that of a lounging or waiting area. A line of offline elevator doors occupy space to the far left with a large metallic sliding door situated directly before them.

"Where we at?" Nick asks, "we out the hospital?"

"Don't know," Isaac says, flashing his light over in the space he's walking. He passes the row of chairs positioned in the center of the floor to a directory on the wall. He can't see the blueprint of the floorplans due to a glare on the glass from his flashlight. Flipping his flashlight around, Isaac turns his head and jabs the blunt end of the flashlight into the glass. It doesn't break on his first try. Isaac strikes the glass over and over where it only cracks and nothing more.

"What are you doing?" Isabel asks, sitting herself down at one of the lounging chairs. She sounds out a breath, with all good reason—she did just literally put her life on the line for everyone to be here at this moment.

"Trying to get this map out of this thing," Isaac explains. "Find out where we are."

Nick comes over to Isaac's side, "Watch out."

Isaac shifts to the side where Nick muscles in one well-placed jab from his elbow which smashes the glass display into pieces. The glass pulverizes into a rain of shards to the floor allowing Isaac to grab the directory from its display.

"Okay…" Isaac brings the map over to a small counter nearby that may had an receptionist area. He dusts away a few fragments of glass off the sheet, unfolding the edge and spreading the paper wide. "This is where we are," Isaac thumbs the location on the map. By the look on the floorplans, they had exited the hospital and are now in private residential area that encapsulates the hospital. Examining the blueprints, Isaac sees that he and the group are at a main corridor that connects each of the dormitories in a grid-like fashion. There are four floors that make up the residential halls.

"We're on the ground floor of this complex," Isaac goes on to say, now with Nick hovering over his shoulder, shinning his light on the map.

"This the Public Sectors?" Nick asks. "Where you told Vivian to run off to?"

Isaac shakes his head, "no, the Public Sectors are another section on Titian Station. We're still in the Governmental Sectors. You see this long line here," Isaac traces what he's saying on the map with his finger for Nick to follow. "It's a crossover tube… it's—it's what I used to get your daughter out this sector and away from the guard's that were after her."

Even though that last bit of his statement was a flat out lie, Nick simply bobs his head holding a determined expression in the shadow of the light. "Then she's all alone… out there on the station. She must be scared out of her mind." The man falls quiet for a moment, drifting away from the counter.

"So what's the plan?" Isabel speaks out, still seated at the chair. "We get to the crossover tube and make it to the Public Sectors and hopefully a way off this damn station?"

"I don't know if it'll be that clean of a shot…" Isaac begins to say before Nick pitches in.

"We go to the Public Sectors, find my daughter—grab a shuttle and fly off this rock."

Isaac turns facing the man, standing in the near dark. Nick's flashlight is aimed down to the floor, leaving him in a partial silhouette.

"It's not going to be that easy," Isaac says with the slight shake of his head. "The Public Sectors are vast. Millions of people live there…"

"So what you sayin' Isaac?" The man questions with an icy tone. "You just gon' give up on my baby girl—cut her loose like you did the first time?"

Isaac shakes his head remorsefully, "That's not what I'm saying, Nick. Hear me out…"

"NO!" Nick explodes, earning a shirking yelp from Stross, fiddling with his fingers in the corner of the room. Isaac feels the tension rising like a hot humid day on Earth. He knows Nick's insanity is taking advantage of him… so is he in a way by prolonging this lie. Isaac fears whatever he says to the man now from this point on will do nothing but advance his madness, but he didn't plan on making it this far just for things to start falling apart now.

Nick sighs heavily through his nostrils like an enraged bull before speaking, "this is what we're going to do," he begins to say, his words like intimate threats. "We gon find a way to reach the damn Public Sectors—and when we do we gon for my girl. Or y'all three can just split—I don't giva fuck. But I ain't leaving this station till I find my baby girl!"

Isaac allows a brief pause to come between them before saying, "Nick, we don't know what's happening out there, okay? Titan Station can be going through the same thing the _USG O'Bannon _and the _Ishimura _had went through."

"Which is more than enough reasons for us to find her before this station ends up like them damn ships!" Nick counters. "I don't know why we still sittin' here arguing about this… if y'all not gonna help me, then I guess this is where we split ways…"

"You do that, and you'll never see your daughter again," Isabel speaks up. "Don't be stupid, Kuttner, like Isaac said, we have no idea what's going on out there. If this is anything like the what happened on the _O'Bannon…_none of us will survive on our own."

Nick, halts on a reply, staggering in his stance. "I see what you sayin'," he agrees in a morose tone. "But I'm tellin' y'all right now… I'm not leaving this station until I find her."

"You won't," this comes from Stross, hugging a darken corner in the room. "She'll find you."

Isaac can't prevent the bone-chilling quiver from penetrating his core from Stross' statement. No one bothered to reply to Stross, granting Isaac to shift focuses on a plan of action taking his attention to the directory.

"Alright, looks like we'll have to go up two sets of stairs… that'll take us to the top floor where we can reach the crossover tube."

"These floors look like living quarters," Isabel remarks, joining Isaac at the map. "We should look for supplies, y'know? Food, water… some fresh clothes for starters."

Nick huffs a laugh, crossing his arms, "fuck that. I'm straight the way I am—we can just head straight for the crossover."

"I think Isabel's right on this one, Nick," Isaac says; right at the moment his stomach begins to have that stabbing feeling to it again. He hasn't ate in… shit, who knows.

Ignoring his hunger pains the best he can, Isaac continues. "A small bit of food and water would go a long way." He brings the ray of his light back to the map. "On the second floor looks to be a cafeteria… that's an obvious place to start looking."

"The dormitories could have something of value as well," Isabel adds. "If most aren't locked, that is."

"Okay," Isaac says. "We'll check the dorms on this floor and then…"

"Naw, that's a waste of time," Nick cuts him off joining Isaac and Isabel around the map. "We split up, two on two—hit the café and another hit the dorms on this floor and then we work our way up to the third and then the top together."

At first, the idea of splitting up doesn't register with Isaac, but the more he ponders on it, the more he begins to feel confident about the idea.

Isaac nods his approval, "okay, we'll do it your way. We split up. I'll search the cafeteria with Stross. You and Isabel hit some of the unlocked rooms down here."

Nick rises an eyebrow at Isaac's elaboration, probably on the part of when he said he was brining Stross with him. Isaac glances to Isabel who also has a worried expression.

"You sure you want him with you?" Isabel questions. "He can just stay right here where we know where he is."

"Don't worry, I can handle Stross," Isaac insures them both. "Now, are we solid with the plan or what?"

A brief pause came between the three, finally broken by Nick, "it's cool," he says with the nod of his head.

"Good. Once we're done making our rounds, this is the rendezvous point," Isaac says gesturing to their immediate surroundings. "If me and Stross don't make it back in thirty minutes—you guys go on."

"We ain't just gonna leave you," Nick says. "Him…" he shrugs indifferently, "maybe. But you…"

"If you aren't back here we'll come looking for you," Isabel says as finale.

Normally, Isaac would smile knowing that he has people that have his back, but the growing pit in his stomach hinders his ability to generate any emotions besides stress and subtle agony.

"Let's get to it," Isaac says departing from the counter. "Come on Stross, you're with me." Isaac doesn't wait on the craze-man's response. Already in motion down a darken corridor leading to the staircase at the end of the hall, Isaac hears Stross' rapid, naked footfalls echoing across the tiled floor as he caught up.

* * *

Leading the way, the only thing Isaac can hear is Stross' raspy breath hugging in the back of his head. The second floor is just as abandon as the bottom—equally dark and menacing too.

Shining the ray of his flashlight before him, Isaac makes out more streaks of blood and the burnt stench of weapon's discharge.

"They're near…" Isaac hears Stross say in a scant whisper. "They see us… hear us… are us…"

Isaac doesn't bother making conversation with the man. One thing he picked up about Stross in their limited time together was that the man doesn't have anything against him like he does with Nick and especially Isabel. If Isaac doesn't know any better, he feels this almost connection with Stross… like the two were supposed to meet one another eye-to-eye… like this entire thing was supposed to happen the way it did. Isaac still can't shake that sense that he's in a giant maze cloaked in darkness and full of unknowns at every turn. Is this some kind of test? If so, why would anyone go this far to see what he and the others are doing? How certain is he that this entire thing is just inside his head… being brain-fed illusions by that Asari strapped to that table? The very idea gives Isaac a literal shiver, though the groan of his tightening stomach tells him otherwise that what's taking place is in fact real… or so he believes.

"Isaac," Stross says with enough emphasis that it shakes Isaac out of his own mind and back to this existence. "They know what we seek… they're here to help us."

"Great, then maybe _they_ can show me a door leading out of this place," Isaac replies with a tried roll of his eyes. They are nearing the cafeteria, just an intersection away—located at the heart of the second floor.

"They are showing us the way," Stross says. "It—it… it hasn't been any clearer… she speaks to me—she's talking to me now."

_She? _Isaac reflects. At first Stross always called this unseen being as _they_ now it's a _she?_

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Isaac dares a reply, "what is… what is she saying to you?"

A reply doesn't come right away. A moment goes by and still nothing. "Stross?" Isaac beckons. The man goes stone quiet to the point that Isaac stops and shines his light back to where Stross was following…

He's gone.

For a moment, Isaac just stands there, dumbfounded. The darken corridor totally abandon as if no one was with him the entire trip. "Stross?" Isaac calls out in an intense whisper. The only reply he gets is his own echo. "Stross, where the hell did you go?!"

Again, the same results.

"I don't got time for your games, Stross. If you don't come out… I'm leaving your ass."

Even his warning falls on death ears. The crazed-man is a lot crazier than Isaac had first thought. Putting his back to the corridor, Isaac continues his trek until he reaches the cafeteria entrances. The glass doors that lead entry into to the cafeteria are left smashed into pieces littering the floor in large and small shards. Isaac's booted feet crunches across the shattered remains of the door, resonating a sharp echo through the vast emptiness of the café. Like the corridor he left, the cafeteria is a ghost town. A few scattered emergency lights are left on, casting a shallow glow in places around the spacious room. At the far end of the café, Isaac spots a few food vending machines, basking in the florescent shade of an overhead emergency light. Like a beacon in the darkness, Isaac quickens his step passing rows of tables, some still holding trays of half eaten food on them. They're cold no doubt at this point, and probably unsafe to eat. So the food venders are Isaac's best bet for gathering food and water for the group.

Breaking in a lumpy jog, Isaac is about halfway through the cafeteria when a sudden loud noise stuns him like a deer in headlights. His heart jerks hard in his chest and his eyes fly in the direction of the loud sound. He can't see anything besides a wall of shallow darkness, though his ears pick up the echoing, mushy murmur of multiple unknown male voices. And they are nearing.

Rapid decisions rush through Isaac's brain. There's no telling who these approaching people are—they could be the people who locked him up or residences of this dorm hall. Either way, he isn't going to stand out in the open to find out.

Isaac makes out the shine of the approaching men's flashlight on the floor. Weighing his options, Isaac falls down to his knees and scoots himself under a table, sliding a knocked over chair in front of him to conceal his form even more. He clicks his light off and hunkers down. Holding his breath, heart racing in his chest, Isaac peers through a slight opening in chair making out the approaching men from a side corridor less than thirty feet in front of him. The glowing end of their light shines like a white star when they turn the corner heading for the cafeteria. Isaac ducks his head even more, praying they don't see him.

Given their close proximity, Isaac is able to make out what the two men are saying.

"Ah! See, what I tell ya, it's a full fuckin' house," one of the men says, his voice holding a Southern American drawl.

"Okay—Okay… shit you were right," the other says, his tone a mixture of annoyance but mostly nervousness. "Let's just get what we can and bounce already."

Isaac can't make out the men's features, all he can see are their shoes up to their waist and nothing more. From what he knows, there are just the two of them, but there' no doubt that others may be nearby.

The sudden sound of glass being smashed startles Isaac. It seems the two men had their intentions set on the same goal as Isaac. If they're looting for food then things may be worse out there than Isaac had first thought.

"I still can't believe it," the rush tone man says. "First the Director ends up dead and then the entire facility blows up with those… those things."

"It's all good, the guards contained the aliens. No way those ugly fucks escaping an army of sentry drones."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

The flutter of a plastic bag fills between their words. "This'll all be over soon," the same man goes on to say, "we just gotta make it back and wait it out."

"This will never be over…" the nervous voice replies solemnly.

"Aye man… aye. Keep your fucking head straight, we're gonna pull through this shit, you hear?"

An extensive pause came between the two where the only sound resonates from the flutter of the plastic bag.

Isaac doesn't budge a muscle—doesn't exhale a breath, he believes his best course of action will be to stay hidden and possibly trail the two back to wherever they came from. They don't seem like a bad sort, Isaac believes. So maybe they'll be willing to aid Isaac and his group in surviving this thing…

_Kla—bolk!_

The sound of a chair hitting the floor resonates loudly through the cafeteria, stunning Isaac and certainly the two men out in the open.

"The fuck was that?" One of them asks. Both had stopped in their haste looting and turned their attention down the length of the cafeteria, the same way Isaac had entered in.

Through the intense silence that followed, Isaac hears the distinct electric whine of a handgun being primed. One of the men are armed.

Another intense silence lapses where Isaac is startled when one of the men shouts out, "come out! We know you're out there!"

_Fuck—fuck—fuck! _Isaac's eyes enlarge and his pulse elevates. The legs of one of the men—most definitely the armed one, nears Isaac's hiding place.

_Oh come the fuck on!_

"Com-on—show your ass right now!"

The guy's so fucking close that Isaac can hear the guy's own rapid breaths. He doesn't believe he's been made just yet—something else is holding the men's attention. All Isaac can do is just hold out until this standoff ends…

"…Isaac—Isaac…!"

Blazing louder than anything, Isaac hears no other than Stross' voice screaming out his name repeatedly. By the sound of his shouts, Isaac guesses that the craze-man is running directly towards these armed men.

"Whoa—whoa—whoa! That's close enough!" The armed man warns; the direction of his stance faces towards Stross. Isaac shifts his eyes to the right where he makes out Stross' boney form in the spotlight of the men's flashlight as if he was caught in a spotlight.

Stross comes to an immediate halt, that usual dumbfounded look on his face, squinting against the light.

"Who the hell are you?" The armed man demanded. "Where'd you come from?"

"He looks like a patient," says the other man shinning the light, hanging back near the food venders.

Stross doesn't say or indicate any form of a reply, his lips are moving, mumbling something Isaac can't decipher.

"What's that?" The armed man calls out to him.

"I… I can show you—show you… the path," Stross dribbles out. "The enlightenment is upon us… I'll—I'll show you…" the craze-man stifles a chilling laughter. "Just—just like I—I showed m-my wife and—and son."

"What?" Flashlight guy says.

"Guy's lost his shit," his counterpart replies. "Come-on, finish up man, I got this guy…"

In that moment, Isaac's heart skips a beat. Stross suddenly shifts into motion rushing at the guy with the gun so fast it was a near blur to Isaac's eyes.

"Holy shit—stay back freak!"

A single ear-splintering shot rings off. A half second later, Isaac sees both the guy and Stross' legs in his view, only that the two are scuffling over the weapon.

"Get off me you piece of shit!" The guy gravels out in his impendent struggle.

All the while, Stross is laughing his lungs out as if he's just heard the funniest joke in the universe. A dark, twisted joke.

"Get this fucker off me man!" The guy pleads to his friend.

Flashlight guy dashes over and with one swift move, separates the two sending Stross staggering for balance… and springing the handgun loose which drops on the floor… directly in front of Isaac.

Ice forms in his veins. Isaac eyeballs the heavy pistol—his mind in judgment, body frozen from acting.

"Damnit!" The armed man swears bending down to retrieve the weapon. That's when his eyes connect with Isaac's and his expression falls into confusion and then a split second later, pale.

Something triggers off inside Isaac and his arm moves in fast to grab the gun. The other man slams a hand on top of Isaac's, grabbing by the wrist and yanking Isaac out from hiding.

Flung out into the open, the other man throws Isaac's weak form to the floor.

"Where the hell did he come from?" Flashlight guy questions, restraining Stross in a chokehold.

"He's dressed like our bat-shit crazy friend here," the armed man says. "Only this one was hiding under that table watching us the whole time."

Isaac, staggering on the floor on all fours stares up at the armed man, now pointing the gun at him.

"Look, we meant no harm," Isaac begins to say, holding a hand up in a non-threating matter. "We're just trying to find a way out of this place."

"Are there more of you?" The armed man asks, casting a glance around the cafeteria while keeping the weapon raised but not aiming it at Isaac.

Isaac shakes his head, "just me… and him," he inclines his head in Stross' direction, struggling in flashlight-guy's hold. "We got separated… I went looking for him and then I heard you guys coming. I didn't know who you were… which is why I hid."

A brief moment passes where Isaac holds the armed man's gaze. He can just make out the guy's features in the cloak of darkness.

"Then why did your friend here just try to attack me?" The armed man interrogates. "It seems to me like you two were workin' up an ambush—knew we were coming here and tried to rob us."

"What? No—we're just trying to find a way out of here," Isaac explains.

"Ain't no way out," the armed man says, stifling a laugh. "This entire wing is under quarantine—crossover tubes are locked off—no way any of us getting outta here anytime soon."

_Damnit… there goes our way out… _Isaac contemplates, feeling that depleted feeling in his gut.

"Shit… you don't know, do you?" The armed man asks in Isaac's absences of words. "'Bout the Director and them aliens showin' up in administration wing?"

Before Isaac can asks what the guy was talking about, flashlight guy lets out a sudden holler that ends the conversation there.

Stross has apparently bit the guy in the arm and forced himself free. "Run Isaac—run!" Stross exclaims, pinning flashlight guy to a nearby table.

The armed man pivots around, taking aim at Stross.

"No!" A burst of adrenaline spikes into Isaac. He jumps up to his feet and into a full run, knocking the armed man off his feet and careening into the table.

Recovering fast, armed man reels his arm around, pistol-whipping Isaac on the side of the head.

A white hot flash sparks across Isaac's vision, the world goes spinning. He trips over his own feet and falls to the floor on the verge of losing conscious. The world sideways in his vision, Isaac inclines his head, looking over his chest where he sees the armed man approaching.

"I was gonna let you go," the armed man says, his words warped in Isaac's ears. "But don't worry, I'm not gonna kill you…" he kicks Isaac's foot, dragging his right leg out, he aims the end of his weapon down at it. "I'm sure your pal will do that for you…"

Anticipating the agony of a bullet tarring through his leg, Isaac forces his eyes shut. Then out of the heat of the moment, an ear ripping scream rips through the cafeteria, drumming against Isaac's eardrums.

Armed man turns his attention to his counterpart, of which the screams are coming from.

"AHHH….! EEEYAAAH! MY EYE—MY EYE! SON OF A BITCH GOT MY FUCKIN' EYE!"

"Fuck…me" the armed man mouths out, holding the top of his head with his hands.

Isaac follows armed man's gaze to flashlight-guy, who is on his knees, screaming his lungs out. Both hands pressed to his face. Standing nearby, Isaac makes out Stross holding a thin, metallic object in his grasps that sparkles in the emergency lighting. At the tip of the object is a bloodied mess…

"What the hell did you do?!" The armed man exclaims, his yelling becomes mangled within his friend's screaming.

Stross' only reply is a jerky shrug and laugh with the wild shake of his head.

Armed man aims the heavy pistol for Stross. Isaac takes the advantage.

Using his kinesis module, concentrates the beam on a nearby chair, flinging it across the space until it smashes into armed man's back, sending him reeling and the weapon clattering out of his grasps. Acting quick, Isaac reactivates the beam snatching up the heavy pistol until it slips into his other hand.

Armed man recovers fast from the blow, pivoting around facing Isaac, holding his arm like it just got cut off. In the matter of moments, armed man rushes at Isaac.

Responding quickly, Isaac firing a shots striking armed man in the leg, ending his run altogether. Armed man collapsed down to one knee with a grunt.

The gun slips out of Isaac's grip and he allows his body to fall limp to the floor. Flashlight man's screams continue to resonate though have now died down to a husk, intense breathing. Canceling his view on the ceiling, Stross' form catches Isaac's eye. The craze-man starring down at him, and though Isaac can't see the man's eyes, shielded behind strands of his wild hair, he can feel his gaze. In his hand, Isaac is able to see that the metallic object in Stross' possession is a fork… flashlight-guy's eye skewered on the barb end of it.

"Stross…" Isaac calls out to him. "Drop the fork, Stross."

The craze-man doesn't comply, holding on to his fork.

"You… you son of a bitch!" Armed man gargles out nearby, grabbing Stross' attention. "Should had… shot you both the moment I saw you!"

Strolling away from Isaac, Stross nears the badly wounded man, swiping the end of the fork clean.

"Fuck away from me, freak!" Armed man shouts at Stross. "You stay the hell back!"

Isaac turns his head looking in their direction. Stross calmly comes behind the injured man rubbing a hand in his hair. Armed man flinches out of his grasps but is otherwise unable to move.

"Shh… don't worry," Stross says to him in a gentle matter. "Your path is set…"

Stross sets a firm hand on top of armed man's head and then, without hesitation or warning, jabs the barb end of the fork into his neck.

Isaac's eyes widen, unable to fathom what he just witnessed. "Stross…?! Stross—stop!"

His pleads go unheard; Stross remains unmoving, only his hand armed with the fork shanks back and forth over and over, ripping armed man's jugular vein wide open.

A hissy gargled mess escapes armed man's mouth along with a waterfall of bloodied saliva. Through the near-darkness, a slew of blood jets out of the man's neck, squirting onto Stross' smock.

"Stross goddamnit—stop!" Isaac's voice cracks, his eyes unable to look away from the bloody massacre unfolding.

Abruptly, the craze-man stops his belligerent stabbing, allowing armed man's body to slip from his hold, falling face first to the floor.

Rolling over on his side, Isaac pushes himself up off the floor, scoping the pistol to hand.

"It is done," Stross breaths out, out reaching his arms at his side and inclining his head to the ceiling. "Now this one will be uplifted… a gift to the Marker."

Isaac's tightens his grip around the handle of the pistol as he marches up on Stross. "The hell's wrong with you?! Why did you do that?!"

Centering his gaze, Storss displaces a face of bewilderment. "It's what it wants, Isaac. This…" he gestures to armed man's corpse, now forming a pool of crimson across the cafeteria floor. "Is the beginning of the great change that has come upon us. The Marker will bring order to our disarray—cleanse us of imperfection until we are on the same level as they…"

Having enough of Stross' shit, Isaac charges the craze-man forcing him back against the wall with a thud. "You son of a bitch! I shouldn't have ever trusted you!" Isaac held a firm hand to Stross' boney shoulder, the barrel of the pistol pressed into the man's chest. "You murdered that man for no fucking reason!"

A glint of guilt resonates behind Stross' eyes. In the shine of the emergency light above them, Isaac can see tears shimmering in the craze-man's eyes. "I'm doing my part in it all Isaac—just as I said from the beginning—I have never lied to you."

"I don't give a shit," Isaac says through grit teeth. "Isabel and Nick were right about you, you're too unstable to be traveling with us… stupid me should have left you to rot in that atrium."

"Isabel and Nicholas aren't—they aren't like you and I, Isaac," Stross begins to say, his hands raised at his side—the fork still in his hold. If the crazy fuck tries anything… Isaac isn't going to hesitate to put a bullet in his heart. "You see… they run from the abyss—but you… y-you don't, because you don't fear what happens next. You don't fear what's to come—the change that hovers over the galaxy."

Stross' words become backed with intellect, the craze-man honestly believing every word that passed through his lips.

"In time, Isaac Clarke, you will fulfil your part in the Marker's plan—it's unavoidable."

The Marker… why does that sound familiar? Stross may be a psychopathic, coldblooded killer, but one thing the man still has that Isaac desperately needs is information. Isaac can't kill him now or leave him behind, he's too valuable of an asset, for now that is.

"Unavoidable or not," Isaac begins to say. "One way or another, I plan on getting off this station and find out who the hell did this to me. And you're going to help me with that, understand?"

"Only the Marker can help us Isaac, listen to it… only then will you find what you're looking for."

"Your Marker pal can go to hell," Isaac takes the weapon off Stross and steps away from him. He approaches the black trash bag armed man and flashlight gut were using to gather the vending machine food. Isaac knells down, opens the bag and discovers that there is plenty enough food for him and the group. Looking over his shoulder, Isaac stares back at flashlight guy, rolling on the floor, groaning in pain and holding his eyeless face. Stross did a real number on the poor guy, but there is nothing Isaac can do about it, even though the man's torment is on his hands indirectly.

Tying a knot in the bag, Isaac grabs it up off the floor and slings it over his shoulder. His freehand still holds on to the pistol. Isaac turns to Stross, still standing against the wall.

"From this point on, you try to hurt me or anyone else… I'll put you down, is that clear?"

Stross doesn't reply right away, only starring at Isaac.

"Is that clear?" Isaac repeats.

Stross dips his head, a thin grin forming on his lips, "until the end… nothing's really clear."

Adjusting the load over his shoulder, Isaac peels his gaze off Stross and begins moving towards the exit, leaving this hellish scene behind.

Putting one foot in front of the other, Isaac forces himself to pass flashlight guy. A part of him becomes entrapped by guilt, leaving a fellow human being to suffer in the dark, next to the corpse of his friend. It's a cold decision, one Isaac knows will stick to the back of his mind for as long as he lives.

From behind, an unusual noise, echoing behind the painful moaning of flashlight guy halts Isaac in step for a moment. Looking over his shoulder, the edge of Isaac's eye lands on armed man's body. Isaac turns fully around where he catches the corpse jolting suddenly.

"What the…?" Isaac heaves out.

The corpse begins to seizure as if lit by electricity. All the blood in Isaac's vein's instantly freezes but his eyes remained glued on what's partaking before him.

Armed man's body convulses, suddenly the corpses' arms bend at an unusual angle and so do the legs. A fleshy, festering sound of crushing tissue and bone matter reverberates through the acoustic cafeteria. The corpse takes on a horrific transformation into something else… something that strikes utter fear into Isaac's chest, a familiar sense of despair holding him hostage.

The corpse finishes its transformation, clothing tattered and ripped, sharpen bones extend from where the arms and legs were creating a grotesque humanoid form Isaac has unfortunately seen many, many times before in that dark crux of his mind.

Rising up off the floor, the reanimated corpse lurches in its stance, eventually setting its attention on Isaac and Stross standing less than fifteen feet away. The creature expels an inaudible screeching yell which jolts Isaac's heart with terror.

"Go!" Isaac yells over to Stross as he turns and dashes off for the exit.

* * *

Hefting the bag along, Isaac's legs move faster than his mind can process. The sense of urgency nipped at his heels knowing the nightmare that occurred in his splotchy memories of the _Ishimura_ is happening in his present.

Grasping the flashlight in the same hand at the one holding onto the knot of the bag, Isaac struggles to give himself much needed lighting to see where he is going. The steal, almost sour stench of the corridor breezes over his sweat drench face as he kept running through the dark; only a handful of badly placed emergency lights acted as a guide.

Stross, Isaac had no idea what happened to the guy… the adrenaline coursing through his veins prevents him from stopping. The only thing on Isaac's mind is getting as far away from that monstrosity as possible.

Sliding along the tiled flooring, Isaac almost loses his balance, pivoting around a corner in the corridor. Remembering the way, Isaac just keeps running straight until he reaches the staircase leading back to Nick and Isabel.

In the distance, Isaac hears the gargle incoherent screams echoing down the corridor. It's hard for Isaac to judge how far off the thing is. He just has to keep moving and hope that…

Something comes barreling out of the dark—from an entryway to Isaac's right-hand side. Unable to stop his momentum, Isaac crashes into a bony, fleshy mass and falls to the floor, losing his handgun, flashlight and possession of the bag of food.

The flashlight goes rolling in the dark, illuminating a tunnel of white light towards a wall. Isaac scrambles towards the light, swinging around only to spot Stross recovering off the floor nearby. Shifting the ray of light, Isaac tries to find where the pistol had swept off to.

"Isaac…" Stross hisses out.

"Not now!" Isaac shot back, desperately swaying the beam of light around his immediate surroundings searching for the gun.

"Isaac—behind you!"

Spinning around, the beam shines upon a monster emerging from the dark; its boney talons raised— ready for the kill.

Isaac drops his flashlight covering his arms over his face. The creature thrusts him back against the opposite wall, the horrific stench of its breath pluming around Isaac's face. Isaac struggles to keep the dead thing at bay, but his arms have little strength in them… and the creature is winning.

Through the pitch blackness, a hard _thwat _resonates following the creature's hold loosening around Isaac. Moving quickly Isaac dives to the floor, crawling for the flashlight. In the background, he hears Stross grunting and rapid breathing mixed in with the drowning yelps of their ravaging attacker. Stross is keeping the thing at bay, using some sort of blunt object by the sound of it.

Grabbing the flashlight, Isaac turns on his back finding Stross and the menacing creature in his ray. Stross, armed with a metallic fire extinguisher fends the boney limed undead back, wildly swinging the blunt object with his eyes tightly closed. His aggressive actions are keeping the thing occupied, giving Isaac enough time to find the handgun.

There, sticking out from under a stretcher, Isaac makes out the barrel of the handgun. He hurries, picks it up and takes aim at the creature. Just before he can crack off a shot, another one of those undead things turns from around the corner, Isaac and Stross right in its gaze.

"Shit!" Isaac spits. Things just got a lot more complicated.

Flashlight in one hand, pistol in the other, both Stross and the two undead in his sight, Isaac opens fire at the creature on Stross. The force of the mass effect propelled projectiles rip flesh from the undead's backside, sending it reeling back.

"Move Stross—to me!" Isaac says backing up towards the stairway door ten feet behind him.

Stross tosses the extinguisher at the undead in front of him and bursts into a frantic run towards Isaac.

Both undead—no doubt the reanimated corpses belonging to armed man and flashlight-guy—pursue after Isaac and Stross.

Firing shot after shot, the electric blue shimmer of the rounds flash the darkness like lightening, creating an eerie snapshot stop-motion image of the two walking corpses. Storss continues pass Isaac towards the stairway.

"Go—Go—Go—don't stop Stross!" Isaac encourages the man on, continuing his covering fire.

Isaac kicks the abandon stretcher into motion in his retreat, acting as a temporary barrier between him and his adversaries.

Stross slams open the door behind him, Isaac turns tail and rushes for the stairway. The two undead thrash the stretcher aside as if it were made of tissue paper and charge.

Isaac dashes through the open doorway and with Stross slaming the door shut behind them. It doesn't end there… the undead slam their bodies into the frame of the door nearly shoving Isaac away. The banging… scrapping against and jut wrenching yells is almost too much to bare. Isaac puts his entire weight on the door, struggling to keep the aliens at bay.

"It's what it wants—it's what it wants—IT'S WHAT IT WANTS!"

"Shut up and keep pushing back!" Isaac shouts to Stross, turning on his back to brace the door. He anchors his feet to the floor and pushes back with every weak muscle in his body. It won't be enough, Isaac knows this for certain with dread coiling in his gut.

"Isaac!" Rushing up the steps, Nick appears along with Isabel a step behind. "We heard shooting are—." Nick chocks back on his words, his and Isabel's eyes magnify on Isaac and Stross bracing the door, the horrendous creatures' gargles rumble into the stairway. "What the f—"

"Go back down!" Isaac says, a hard thud to the door sends his body jolting, they're getting through. "Go—now!"

The door blasts open, sending Stross and Isaac scrambling back. The form of the creatures fill the doorway, sharpen arms raised, gargling yelps flooding into the stairway.

"Run!" Isaac shouts. Nick, Isabel and Stross rush back down the stairs followed behind Isaac who opens fire on the leading undead while descending the steps. The intense discharge of the weapon in such an enclosed space slams against his eardrums leaving a dull ring in his head. The weapon's thermal clip chips off and a jet of heat rinses over Isaac's hand. All rounds spent and still the things continue barging tooth and nail to get them.

At the last step, Isaac loses his footing and falls back to the hard floor. The disfigured face of the first undead stares down upon him like a demon emerging from the abyss. Isaac scoots away on his back using his legs and elbows. The undead outsteps his efforts raising a boney appendage ready to chop down on him.

Isaac feels a strong hand pulling him along the floor from the collar, eventually yanking him up to his feet. It's Nick, dragging him along with one arm with his other hand grasping a long tool with a blunt flat end. "Get back!" Nick shouts pulling Isaac behind him.

Stumbling up to his feet, Isaac backs away watching Nick holding his ground against the approaching undead. When the creatures come dangerously close to Nick, the man swings the tool in his hand for them. The tool being a fire-axe. The hatchet blade at the end of the staff buries itself deep into the shoulder of the leading undead. The creature expels a wrenching yelp retracting in its step.

Nick struggles to free the end of the blade from the undead. Giving it a hard thrashing yank, the blade comes out, leaving the undead's sharpen arm dangling by a thread of spider-webbing flesh.

Retreating down the corridor, Nick rejoins Isaac, Isabel and Stross. The group maintaining relative distance from their relentless enemy.

"What… the hell are these things?" Isabel questions incredulously. "Where'd they come from?"

Isaac shakes his head, "long story…"

"How we stop em'?" Nick asks, grasping the axe with both hands.

"Don't think we can," Isaac replies.  
One of the undead begins a rush down the corridor. Isaac and the group disperse into the small lounging area, Stross slipping over his own fast moving feet falls flat on his stomach. Nick swings his axe blade wildly in front of him, keeping the creature at bay.

Isaac grabs the craze-man by the fabric of his smock pulling him back up to his feet. Isabel retreats into the room, a switchblade of some-kind grasped in one shaken hand. Isaac, on the other hand is armed with nothing more than a glorified item picker-upper.

"Shit!" Nick swears having backing into the loafing area with the rest of the group, the two unkillable monstrosities following close by. "Slashed these fuckin' guys like a hundred damn times already!"

"Can't be stopped…" Stross hisses out, cowering in a corner.

In these split seconds, Isaac weights the groups' options. Staying and fighting these things is a sure death sentence. Seeing their best bet, Isaac shoots a glance over his shoulder to the darken corridor leading to the adjacent wing of the dorm hall.

"We gotta run!" Isaac tells the group. "This way!" He doesn't wait for anyone to follow; not knowing if it's fear or just the urge to survive driving him on. Either way he hears the frantic footfalls of the group running alongside him in the dark, the horrendous screeches of their undead pursuers just feet behind them.

Dashing around a dark corner, Isaac just makes out the shallow glow of the emergency lights in the stairway down the hall. He forces himself to a halt at the doorway, urging the others to keep going. "Come on—go up the stairs!"

He doesn't have to tell them twice, Stross' rushes pass like a wild animal fleeing capture. Right behind him comes Isabel and finally Nick. Isaac shoots a quick glance at their relentless pursers, the shadow of the corridor brightens the two red orbs in their badly disfigured faces.

Isaac kicks away the rubber door stopper keeping the stairway door open and slams it shut. In those following seconds, the creatures slam onto the frame of the door resonating a hollow ping through the stairway.

The muscles in Isaac's arms struggle to keep the aliens at bay. Nick's scrawny arm presses onto the doorframe from above Isaac's head along with Isabel and finally Stross bracing the bottom of the door with his body balled in a fetal position.

"The axe!" Isabel grunts out. "Use the fuckin' axe!"

Isaac sees where she's coming from—they can brace the door using the axe but at the same time lose their only tool of defense against these things. But there is no time to negotiating, there is no way in Hell the four of them can keep these guys back… each hard hit against the door jolts through Isaac's scrawny body.

"Do it Nick!" Isaac urges.

The taller man moves quick, sliding the shaft of the axe through the looped door handle. The axe slides and secures into place like a loose pad lock.

Isaac his weight off the door watching with terror filled apprehension as the door jolted hard against the axe handle. It's working, for now.

"Come on, that isn't gonna hold for long," Isaac says to the group, speaking between the sharp clashing of metal and the muffled gargling screams from their attackers.

"Let's get the fuck outta here," Nick gravels charging up the stairs first.


	11. Eleven

**Eleven :::**

**Alive**

* * *

"Goddess!" Shalia recoils back in her seat, unable to fathom what her eyes see on the holographic screen of her omni-tool. Wired into the last few functioning surveillance cams spread in various sections of the complex, she sits glued into her chair trying to make sense of the chaotic scene that has unfolded before her eyes.

Centered on the security camera's lens, she sees a pair of humans frantically dashing up a set of stairs but not after barricading the door from which they came. Through the footage, Shalia is able to see that the door continuously jolts violently as if a wicked storm is behind it thrusting it forward. But she knows exactly what it is thrashing on it from the other side and it certainly isn't the wind.

Her key interest is in the humans who have retreated upstairs and out of reference with the surveillance footage. Try as she might, Shalia shuffles through the various camera feeds on her omni-tool in an effort to require where the humans had went. Her efforts prove fruitless where screen after screen displays a blacken image with the words 'offline' hovering in the center.

"Where did you go?" She muses aloud to herself.

Shalia is aware that the human survivors are in the residential area of the hospital, an area long since evacuated during the outbreak. Those unfortunate enough or fast enough to evacuate in time were cut off when the quarantined protocols activated. Same went for the administration wing, where it is believed the outbreak had initially began. Shalia can't recall the exact moment, she was catching some much needed rest from her mentally exhausting tasks of extracting information from the heads of those subjects for project Telermore. She was shaken awake by the sounds of gunfire and a contingent of CEC guards rushing into her room for extraction. Everything from that point on felt like a dream where the guards dragged her out of bed and into a nightmare.

Somehow, the monstrosities depicted in the various subjects' minds were right before her face in reality. She locked eyes with one—she didn't exactly know what it was but she felt the similar hopelessness she had sensed from the subjects when she matched eyes with the thing. Dozens of guards discharged their weapons frantically into the thing which did absolutely nothing to stall its aggressive advancements. Five of the guards had risk their lives to ensure Shalia and other CEC personnel escaped through the now sealed breezeway that connect the various sectors of the complex. Shalia along with the other survivors fled for the top level of the residential wing where they hoped to escape via the crossover tube, which proved to be of false open door to freedom. For the pass few hours, she along with fifty other frighten employees have been stranded in the main atrium with their only salvation transformed into the exact opposite.

Leaning forward in her chair, Shalia becomes increasing frustrated with the many dead camera feeds on her omni-tool. What good is it to tap into the security network when ninety percent of it is pretty much useless? There can be dozens more survivors like the one's she saw out there right now and they need her help as much as she needs theirs. They've been out there the longest and she's certain they faced those things one way or another. From her acquired knowledge from the subjects is that there is a way in stopping these creatures. Somehow, each of them knew how to take them down… something about limbs…

Shalia forces herself to look away from her omni-tool and closes her eyes, leaning back in the plush leather chair. In the crevasse of her thoughts, she allows the spontaneous interworking parts of her ability to draw her to one of the subject's minds from the experiments. She never caught the subject's actual name, only the initials I.C.. He had some of the most distinguishable residual traits out of the many she had melded with. He also held the most resistances, but when she bypassed his harden subconscious wall, she was granted with clean, clear images of utter horror and terror unlike anything she'd ever encountered during a melding. She took on his pain and suffering and often wondered how he had the will to carry on.

Over the extensive months of the projects commencement, the other subjects couldn't bare the pain and killed themselves by bashing their brains out on the toilets in their cells. One, Shalia had heard about, asphyxiated herself with a plastic water bottle. Their bodies had later been cremated… their ashes jettisoned into the void as if common space trash.

Shalia has never encounter so much suffering in one place and she also doesn't understand how humans can do such atrocities to their own kind. Then again, her species have their fair share of inflicting violence to one another, its organic nature to destroy one another, she supposes.

Eliminating her internal musing, Shalia refocuses herself to concentrate on those acquired thoughts cataloged in her head. After a few moments of deep breathing and concentration, she begins to see a picture materializing, mainly a voice, echoing through the infinite void of the subconscious mind.

"…_that's how you stop these things—arms—legs… use'a cutter knife—anything with a fuckin edge just cut em' up…!"_

Flashing her eyes open with a rushed sigh, Shalia springs up to the edge of her seat, rubbing a hand at her temples. "Their appendages… that's how we kill them," she says to herself. A small creep of a smile breaks the stiffness of her face.

Rising up from her seated position, Shalia steps around the desk she's been sitting behind and approaches a small window nearby. Looking through it, she scans her eyes across the expansive space of the atrium where at the far side lies the Plexiglas vestibule for the crossover tram, vacant of any activity. Mingling along the atrium are the dozens of survivors clumped in groups or just sitting by themselves. From her vantage point, Shalia can tell many of them are still shell-shocked from the ordeal or the fact that they are trapped with their only way out being a certain suicide endeavor.

Shalia can't believe her luck. Here she is again in a similar life-or-death situation as she was several years ago on Feros. Only that time she was unpinned from danger with the help of the first Human Specter, she doesn't believe her luck is favorable this time around.

From behind, she hears someone stepping into her vicinity. Through the reflection in the glass window, Shalia makes out one of the security guards that escaped the chaos that erupted within the administration wing.

"Well… saw anything out there?" The young Human asks.

Shaila shakes her head, "I saw something," she replies, her gaze fixed starring through the window. "Survivors… two of of them a few levels below us."

She hears the scuffing of the human's boots near her but comes to an abrupt halt. "What? Then we have to do something—we… we have to tell Strummer and…"

"He's only interested in saving his own pathetic self," Shalia replies with a contained tone. "You shouldn't insert yourself with that being."

The Human snickers, "trust me, I've tried. But…as much as I hate to say it… he's in charge here, and he had the right idea in setting up those sentry guns when we had the chance."

That's one thing Shaila agrees with. If it weren't for those guns then she and everyone here would be dead by now. It's their only defense against those things from coming up through the crossover tramway but it's also their only way in escaping this place alive. She doesn't believe help will arrive any time soon or at _all_ in that matter. Shalia knows they will have to take the first move, to face this unknown and violent enemy and survive this ordeal. And in doing so, she also believes that in order to do that, they'll need these survivors—whoever they are.

"We won't be able to stay here for prolong periods of time," Shalia says.

She turns her gaze away from the window, Shalia finally faces the young human male who calls himself Aiden Richardson. Unlike Strummer and the other guards, Aiden is reasonable decent though naïve, she can see it in the way he carries himself around others. Yet behind that almost innocent façade of the young human, Shalia senses that he has a determined nature about him… along with a mix of deep apprehension.

"Soon, we're going to have to take a chance and carve our own way out of here," she says, now giving Aiden her full attention.

His mouth quivers before speaking, "t-that's insane… Strummer won't—"

"Forget about him!" Shalia interrupts sharply. "You honestly think he'll protect you once those temporary defenses are rendered useless? Like I said, he's only in it for himself—no one more." She turns her attention back to the neon illumination of her omni-tool. "You fail to see far from your own eyes, but what we have here is temporary. These creatures… whatever they are, I have an understanding in stopping them. But for it to work, we'll need assistance…"

* * *

Nearly out of breath from running, his heart slamming in his chest, Isaac doubles over placing his hands on his boney knees and takes a breath. The others continue pass at a brisk pace in the darken corridor. The adrenaline that fueled his body is beginning to fizzle out leaving a jittery electric tingle through his bloodstream. Leaning his back against a wall, Isaac looks back down the corridor from which they came. The noise from the staircase no longer audible, nothing but the hollow silence of the hallway fills his ears.

He feels a hand brush against his arm, slightly startling him for a moment.

"Easy… just me," Isabel says. "Here, found this back downstairs," she hands Isaac a grey hoodie.

"Thanks," he says, pulling his arms through the garment. It's a bit large on him, then again, he's lost a tremendous amount of weight since his imprisonment here. Examining his new set of clothes, Isaac releases a dry laugh at the insignia running the length of the sleeve to his jacket. "N'7 huh?"

Isabel shrugs, "It was either that or the Blasto T-shirt. Too bad Kuttner beat you to the punch on that one."

Isaac cracks a genial grin. Reflecting back on that stressful moment downstairs, Isaac didn't have time to make out that awful graphic of a Hanar armed with five weapons in each tentacle depicted on Nick's shirt. It's the funniest thing he's seen thus far since walking through this hell. Isabel seems to be the only normally dressed person out of the group, having found a complete set of mismatch, loose fitting clothes. It must feel good to be out of those coarse, dingy hospital garbs.

Fully regaining his composure, Isaac takes his back off the wall. "We should keep moving, those things can catch up any second."

Isabel nods in agreement, getting into step alongside Isaac. Stross and Nick are a few steps ahead of them, Nick wavering his light into each corner of space they cross. Behind him, Stross moves as if walking across eggshells, the consistent babbling uttering out from his mouth becomes more premediate than before. Nothing but an endless slew of whispery words escape through his lips, clawing at his wild hair… he's beginning to crack even more.

"So about our new friends…" Isabel says, bringing up the obvious and present threat. "You and Stross encountered them how exactly?"

The haunting and inconceivable images of the looters' corpse transforming before Isaac's eyes replays in his mind. He still can't believe what the hell he saw or if it was his madness catching up to him. Still, the rotting, fleshy stench of the reanimated corpses and their disjointed screams reminds him that it isn't some violent illusion.

"There were these people," Isaac begins to explain, his voice in a monotone. "Scavengers—two men, searching for food in the mess hall. One of them, he… he held Stross and me at gunpoint and…"

Isabel stops in her tracks, prompting Isaac to do the same. "You… you killed them?" She says, a voice wavering a bit. "That's where the blood came from on Stross' shirt…?"

Isaac doesn't reply right away. At first, he reconsiders elaborating any further of the encounter, but the words come out faster than his frantic mind can prevent them. "He stabbed one of them."

Through the near dark, the woman expels a gasp, "my God! And you didn't stop the fuckin' maniac!?"

"I tried!" Isaac counters, feeling anger creeping up his back. "But Stross… I didn't know he was going to do that—I didn't know he'll kill someone!"

Isabel closes the distance between them, coming inches from Isaac. "The piece of shit murdered his own family!" She says in a low yet intense voice. "Thought someone like you wouldn't figure that something was wrong with him from the get-go."

She's right and Isaac can tell she's holding back from sculling him any further. He gave her his word that he could handle Stross, yet he let this happen. It's his fault they have these… things chasing them now. Thinking back to it all, Isaac should have left Stross to be killed by his own creations… some form of poetic justice in a sense. But then again, what would that prove, and how much will Isaac and the others lose if Stross ends up dead.

"You should had put a bullet right between his eyes," Isabel says sternly, backing away from Isaac. "At least then he wouldn't kill any of us, y'know?"

"Trust me, I was a blink away from blowing his head off," Isaac says. "But then I remembered how much we'll lose—the information in his head. He must know about what's going on with us. He holds the key to this entire nightmare, Isabel."

"And what… you think that man's sane enough to even tell us?!" She says incredulously. "What—we're just gonna sit around a campfire and he'll just spill the fuckin' beans out of that fucked up head of his."

"I don't know," Isaac replies, shaking his head.

"So in the meantime he's just going to be walking 'round with us until he finds someone else to butcher, is that it?"

"I don't know," Isaac repeats with more weights on his words. He finds the woman's eyes in the shadows. "You think I like this any more than you do? I saw him rip another human being's neck out with a goddamn fork! Above all else I want him dead too—secrets or not. But these are the cards we've been handed… and it's all we got."

Isabel doesn't say anything in return, unfolding her arms.

Isaac exhales a sigh, allowing his temper to simmer down, "and if he does try to hurt you, or Nick or anyone else we come across… I'll stop him myself."

The woman holds his gaze for a while before shaking her head. "I don't know who's crazier…" with that, she turns and walks away. Isaac takes a moment to reflect on her words. Is his madness influencing his judgment? Why is he keeping Stross around even after witnessing firsthand how unhinged he is…?

"Hey…" Isabel calls back to him, yanking him out of thought.

Burying the startling thoughts to the back of his head, Isaac forces himself to move once more. The faster they get to the crossover tube the better. Matching Isabel's walking pace, the two trial a considerable distance from Nick and Stross who are halfway down the corridor to a turn off point which'll bring them down towards the mess hall, where this shitstorm all started.

"You still didn't answer my question," Isabel says after a lengthy pause between the two. "Where'd those things come from?"

"You already know," Isaac replies. He looks to the woman walking at his side and says, "it's them, the scavengers Stross killed. They… came back—I don't know how, I just saw…" Isaac cuts his sentence short. There is no full explanation as to what he saw… only that he vaguely remembers encountering a similar thing on the _Ishimura. _Even then, he's sure, he didn't know what the hell was happening.

Isabel is a loss for words, she doesn't utter a sound or a reply. Isaac can't see her face in transcending darkness but he envisions that usual perplexed scowl she wears ninety-percent of the time he's around her. He doesn't know if she believes what he just told her, and to be honest, he doesn't care. None of it will matter if they die on this station, anyway.

The rest of the journey to the mid-floor stair case is in silence, for Isaac can sense everyone's heighten tension, venturing through the dark corridors of the second floor. Occasionally, Isaac shoots a glance to Stross' bloodied smock, a constant reminder of what kind of shit they got themselves into. Thinking back to the lethal altercation, Isaac can't help but feel ashamed for letting it drag out that long. Maybe if he revealed himself to the men sooner… maybe they'll still be alive—or could've even helped in a way. Maybe he and the others won't be running for their lives while desperately clawing for a way out.

"This is all my damn fault," Isaac mutters to himself. He brings his head up, looking at the others in front of him. Nick leads, shining his flashlight ahead of the group with Isabel trailing behind him. Behind her is Stross, infrequently talking to himself while pulling at the wild bush of hair on his head.

Even Isaac is beginning to wonder why he's keeping the man around even after seeing firsthand what he's capable of. The man's a beyond psychotic—a serial killer and he's just walking alongside everybody unrestraint.

Balling his fist, Isaac fights back that dark crevasse in his mind, tempting him into doing something regretful. He's not a killer, he's not like Stross, but for how long can he keep distancing himself from his own insanity, only time will tell.

"These look like the stairs," Nick says from up ahead, shinning the beam of his light into the darken staircase. "I think…"

Isaac and the others form up alongside him, starring into the stair room.

"The hell is this?" Isabel says, referring to the makeshift blockade preventing their advance upward.

"Could be more people," Isaac says, his heart beginning to race with apprehension. Running into other survivors seems to stem dire consequences these days. This entire station feels off, like everyone's being driven mad by some unseen force. Now that he thinks back to it, those two guys had that same sickness, though subtle, but it was still there.

Shaking the thought aside, Isaac is brought back to the present by Nick shifting pass him towards the haphazard blockade of office fixtures bashed in place.

"Think we can move this shit outta the way," Nick says, pulling a loose object out from the pile.

"Now hold on," Isabel speaks. "How do we know there aren't any more of those things upstairs?"

"We don't," Nick says with a grunt. He successfully yanks the object out. "But we know we got two of dem on our ass right now. And besides, this the only way to the crossover tubes."

Looking back towards the way they had come from, Isaac sees that the darken corridor is vacant, but he fears that won't be the case at any minute now. Moving forward is all they can do, there is no turning back.

"Here," he hands Isabel the flashlight, "keep watch."

She gives him a nod, clicking the light on and turning towards the corridor.

Stross leaning against the wall nearby, Isaac passes the man by joining Nick on clearing the blockage.

"Someone did a mean job in blocking this staircase, huh?" Nick notes.

"I just hope they're friendly," Isaac replies in a low voice.

"I just wanna get to my daughter man. I know she's out there," Nick says. A slight pause comes between the two besides the pull and yank of the objects in their wake. Nick sighs, then says, shaking his head a bit. "She's… she's all I got, man. I cain't lose her like this..."

For the first time, Isaac hears the other man's voice waiver a bit.

"I cain't lose her in this place," Nick goes on, after taking a deep breath.

"You're gonna see her again, Nick," Isaac assures him. "Okay—you just gotta push a little bit more man—I know you can."

Again, the man goes quiet, then says, "don't worry 'bout me, Isaac. I can still hold my own."

Isaac only nods to the man's response, wiping a slick of sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his hoodie. Whoever set this barricade up used like every piece of office equipment imaginable. It's obvious whoever did were aware of the creatures that chase Isaac and his group. He just hopes there aren't any more of those things upstairs.

Isaac and Nick are partly through the junk pile, taking their time moving piece by piece to prevent the entire mass from crashing down on top of them. Seeing no point in touching any of the bottom large pieces of debris, Isaac and Nick focus on shifting the top layer of crap aside. In the end, everyone'll have to crawl their way through the slight opening to reach the other side.

_Good thing we're all loose in the cage, _Isaac muses.

Halfway through the mass, Isaac and Nick come to a halt when they hear Isabel shushing them from the bottom of the stairs. An intense quiet hovers over the group, Isaac and Nick share a glance then look down the stairs at Isabel retreating behind the doorjamb alongside Stross, now sitting back against the wall.

"They're coming," she whispers intensely.

"Shit," Nick swears. "We gotta hurry this up."

The two begin to dig frantically at the mass, knocking objects nosily down the stairs.

Stross jerks up to his feet, responding to the sound of the crashing objects hitting the floor.

Hard plaster and glass cuts at Isaac's fast moving hands, but with the adrenaline running through his veins, he hardly feels the pain. Unlatching one last piece of junk, Isaac feels his arm slip halfway through the mass, creating a path to the other side.

"That's it—we're through!" Isaac says.

Cutting into his sentence, the ever approaching gargles of the pursing dead reverberate down the corridor.

Isaac turns to see Isabel clicking the flashlight off and ducking back into the near-darkness of the stair-room. "They're just down the hall—coming right at us!"

"It's okay, we got it," Isaac says.

"I'll go first," Nick volunteers, preparing himself to slip through the jagged tunneling of junk.

"Alright—just be quick," Isabel urges.

The taller man pockets his flashlight and dives arms first into the tunnel. His body horizontal to the stairs, Nick pulls himself through the slight opening until only his legs are dangling out. From down the stairs, the maddening gargles of the creatures become louder, and Isaac feels his heart explode with terror once more. This barrier is their last and final chance in finally ending this prolonged chase, if only they hurry, that is.

"Shit!" Nick mutters as his body jolts but goes nowhere. "Think I'm caught-up here—man!"

"You're stuck!?" Isabel retorts incredulously.

"Just give him a push," Isaac says, setting himself in a position to give Nick a hard push. Reaching an arm awkwardly through the tight spacing of the tunnel, Isaac's hand finds purchase on Nick's buttocks. With all his limit strength, Isaac shoves—thrusting his weight into the push as well. Opposite to him on the staircase, Isabel is also giving Nick a push.

Through their combined efforts, Isaac begins to feel Nick nudge an inch or two in… about the time his arm grows numb from the exertion.

"Com'on—I'm almost there!" Nick's muffled voice hollers back. "One more push and I'm through."

Ignoring the droplets of sweat tainting his forehead and the ragdoll feeling of his arm, Isaac exhales a deep breath and gives another hard push. Just when Isaac believes his arm is about to give out, he feels his firm hold on Nick slip and the taller man spills out onto the other side.

"Okay," Isaac sighs turning to Isabels. "You're next."

She nods, preparing herself to squeeze through the slight opening, when the distorted screams of the pursing undead reverberate loudly through the staircase.

Twirling around, Isaac's heart explodes upon seeing the reanimated corpses at the foot of the staircase. Stross lets out a yelp, staggering over his feet as he backpedals frantically up the flight of stairs.

"We aren't going to make it," Isaac hears Isabel utter—the woman starring wide-eyed at the advancing monstrosities charging up the length of the stairs, pincers swaying over the mutilated features of their bodies.

Fear snakes its way through Isaac's chest as he stares at the creatures—at his own death coming to meet him. Their glowing, amber eyes cut through the near-dark, drilling their way into his own face. For a moment, everything falls quiet… and he actually feels at peace, for once since this entire ordeal had begun.

But then, shattering Isaac's tranquilly acceptance of death is suppressed by a burning desire to fight—to live. The cold grip of fear at the pit of stomach is replaced with something else... some driving force dictating his mind to act now.

Turning his head, Isaac makes out an elongated piece of bent metal sticking out form the pile. He shifts over to it and yanks the metal bar free, discovering that it's a table leg. Shifting his attention back to the advancing corpses, Isaac tightens his grip on the metal, absorbing the coolness of it into the heat of his palm. Without a word to Isabel or Stross, Isaac feels his body jumping into motion even before his mind could catch up.

Diving down the stairs, Isaac angles his body midair so that his boney shoulder collides into the first walking corpse, knocking it off its feet. Together, they tumble down the stairs, careening into the other corpse and it too joins the fray of plummeting bodies. Hitting the bottom landing awkwardly on his side with the wind nearly knocked out of him, Isaac recovers off the floor flanked by both creatures who themselves begin to stagger back up to their feet.

Before either could, Isaac backtracks towards the entryway shooting a glance up at Isabel and Stross—hardly visible at the top. "Go—get outta here!" He shouts. Unable to wait for a reply, Isaac dashes back into the corridor, purposely banging the metal table leg against the wall to stir the creatures' attention his way.

"Com'on—right here—come and get me!"

Recovering off the floor, the reanimated corpses' growl with heated malice and charge after Isaac. Backpedaling through the stricken darkness of the hall, Isaac continues to instigate the creatures to bait him. Walking backwards, and keeping his eyes trained on their every move, the shock of his early maneuver begins to wear-off enough for Isaac to start generating an actually feasible plan. If he's lucky, he can lure these guys away and hopefully double back to the staircase back to the others. Though he'll have to stay one step ahead of—

—Catching his back-stepping foot off-guard, Isaac loses his balance and falls back to the floor. The metal bar flings from his grasps, vanishing into the prolong darkness. Seeing nothing but the darkness of the ceiling, his vision becomes consumed by one of the creatures—now looming before him.

Before he can even react, the sharpen appendages of the creature chomp down upon him. Wide-eyed—bewilderment mixed with terror, Isaac utters a yelp the second his hands reach out to grab the arms from severing his head. He catches the synchs—the palms of his hands ultimately sliced and quickly become saturated with blood…but his head is still on top his shoulders, well for now.

The grueling strength of the undead disarms Isaac's scant strength and both sharpen appendages chomp down on him. An intense pain…not like anything Isaac has ever felt assaults his shoulder. Like the bones under his skin that made up his collar and shoulder blade had exploded into fragments and his arm amputated. He lets out a hush scream of agony as he turns his head only to see one of the sharpen appendages jammed deep within his own flesh. Hurled up, the creature slams Isaac into the wall, sinking the sharpen bard deeper into Isaac's flesh.

In an instant, Isaac is suddenly flung to the side and sent flying down the length of the corridor before crashing down hard on his damaged shoulder. He nearly passes out from the instant hot pain that erupts, but somehow, he remains conscious enough to hear the cacophony of noise erupting behind him.

Unable to turn around to see what's going on, Isaac can only hear the sound of abrupt impacts smashing into objects—the constant and incoherent screams of the corpses… of air snapping like a whip. None of it registers anything familiar to his faded senses…only thing he registers is pain, of the smell of his own blood seeping from the gaping wound at his shoulder and spilling from his hands. He can do nothing but struggle to keep his eyes open to the pressing darkness cloaking him, for however long he possibly can.

The thunderous sound that had embraced the corridor all but ceases to the point where Isaac can literally hear the wet thwack of his blood dripping to the dirty floor beneath him. Not even the head shattering shouts from the corpses' batter his senses. His eyes halfway open, a constant dull ring to his ears… he faintly hears footsteps heading his way—shoed footfalls.

Chocking a weak, painful breath, Isaac struggles to turn his head in the direction of the approaching person. Only his gaze comes out just short, but he can faintly sense the person standing over his destroyed body.

"Don't try to move," he hears the person say, feminine in tone and also…oddly familiar.

Isaac stirs just a bit, he feels the cold touch of a hand against the side of his head. "Wh-where…" he chokes out, only to find his mouth as rigid as cement, his words sounding like mush.

"Just stay awake, human," the woman just of sight says to him, this time her voice sounds louder to his ear. And she called him _human…_

"Stay conscious, I need you alive."

Both pain and confusion course through Isaac's mind all at once. He tries to speak again, only to feel the wrapping warmth of unconsciousness washing over him, and he gives in.

* * *

An unknowable amount of time has passed by the time Isaac regains consciousness. The dull ping of a heart monitor machine drags him from his dreamless sleep and into a near-dark room, which holds the scent of various ointments and the starch odor of medi-gel

Noticing that his head is in an uncomfortable and awkward position, Isaac manages to unknot the taunt muscles in his neck and level his head. His vision instantly blurs in the motion of his own swiveling eyes, taking a moment to readjust. After of moment of feeling like his brain had gone swimming, Isaac is able to get a detailed pictured of his immediate surroundings. He's in a rather spacious room—void of any people or anything else of that matter besides a lone chair and table to his right. It takes him a split moment to realize that this isn't a room at all, but a foyer. At the end of the hall are a line of inert elevator doors, their dull, metallic surfaces gleam off a dim light source, situated nearby. Beyond the elevator doors look to be an automatic glass sliding door. The glass itself is opaque, though Isaac can still make out silhouetted forms moving beyond it.

Regarding himself, Isaac stares down at his numb body, noticing that his hoodie and underlying smock had been removed, leaving him naked from the waist up. A patchwork of bloodied bandages, along with the harden transparent clotting agent of the medi-gel—now mixed in the color of his own blood—cover the grisly wound that had damaged his shoulder. Testing his arm, Isaac notices that he can hardly move it any faster than a snails' pace.

_May be nerve damage, _he muses, allowing his arm to fall back to the armrest. In time, his arm should be good to go… but that only leaves him wondering where the hell he is now, and what happened to Isabel, Nick and Stross. The last thing he remembers is being knocked out by two of those things that had relentlessly chased them. He also remembers hearing a voice… but other than that, his mind is still numb from waking from unconsciousness.

Struggling to stand, Isaac discovers that his body is beyond weak. The effort to just stand puts him immediately out of breath… along with the dull pain of his wound wreaking his nerves. With no choice but to stay put, Isaac just stares at the glass sliding door down the length of the corridor watching the silhouette shadows of people shift from place to place. He can also hear voices… multiple ones, but otherwise he isn't able to make out what is being said.

After an extensive amount of time has gone by, Isaac hears the sliding door open. Picking his head up, he looks out upon a person approaching him. He squints to clear up his vision, making out a familiar looking asari. An icy sensation tickles Isaac's spine as he sits up tensely.

"You…?" Is all he can utter out before breaking into a coughing fit.

The asari dips somewhere to the side of Isaac's vision, she then returns holding something in her hand. "Take this."

Recovering enough from his cough, Isaac stares at the metallic flask in the asari's grasps with suspicion.

"You're apprehension is unneeded," the asari says, her voice low yet articulate. "If I wanted you dead, I would've left you to bleed out."

Picking up his gaze, Isaac stares into the alien's passive face. He remembers her face alright, those dark menacing eyes and calm voice… it all floods back to him like a rouge wave.

"Where am I—where are my friends," Isaac asks, discovering his voice flimsy and his throat dry as chalk.

The asari extends the flask his way again, "a side effect of medi-gel treatment is a vast loss of electrolytes," the asari says, dodging his questions by a thousand miles. "You may feel weak, dry, but this stimulus drink would make the recovery manageable."

"I'm not taking a damn thing from you…" Isaac coughs out. "Till you tell me what's going on here."

He holds the asari's gaze for a lingering moment, till seeing that fixed expression on her face twitch. Wordlessly, she turns away, placing the flask on a nearby desk. She then drags a chair into place in front of Isaac and quietly falls into it, draping one leg over the other.

"We're in deep shit," the asari sighs tensely, sinking back in her seat. "This entire facility is under attack by creatures that I believe you've faced before. Back on the _USG Ishimura…"_

Isaac freezes upon hearing the asari say that. His gaze locked on her face, "that was you," he says. "Who was in my head—who tormented me!?"

"I didn't mean to cause you harm, truly I didn't," the asari says. And Isaac felt some since of sincerity behind her words, though he keeps himself from letting his guards down so easily.

"I was under orders," the asari goes on to say, dipping her gaze a bit. "The people I worked with, they used me to determine what happened to you and the others. Only, they were ignorant of what they were getting themselves into…"

"The Red Marker," Isaac finds himself muttering out. Surprised by his own words, Isaac matches eyes with the asari, who looks at him with equal shock.

"You remember," the asari remarks, a sly grin forming across her leathery face.

"I remember the name, not what it means," Isaac says, coughing a bit.

"That's fine," the asari says, reaching for the flask. "Your mind's sharper than I would've imagined after what… after what I put you through."

Isaac hesitates before taking the flask from her hand. He takes a quick sip of the stimulus drink, noting the rejuvenating felling of the cool liquid trickle down his throat and unlocking his coiled insides.

"So what happened to these people you were with?" Isaac asks, taking a longer sip from the flask. "The people that held me captive?"

"They're dead," the asari says without hesitation. "Killed by their own blind ambition. And I thought we were next… until I came across you and your friends."

Isaac lowers the flask to his lap, "what do you mean? What do you want with us?"

"You've been through this before," the asari says. "You faced these things—all of you have. You survived, you're alive now because you knew how to combat them then."

Isaac shakes his head, "those things are unkillable," Isaac says with the shake of his head. "We tried everything to stop them and nothing worked."

The asari shakes her head, "not everything." She stands out from her chair, "and I'm confident you already know what I mean. Besides, you're the one who told me."

_I told you? _Isaac contemplates, confused by the asari's shaded explanation.

"I'll give you time to rest," the asari goes on to say, making her departure for the glass sliding door. "You'll need your energy for what's to come."

"What are you talking about?" Isaac says after her. "What's coming?"

The asari keys the door open turning to face Isaac halfway, "you're finale trial with me, Isaac Clarke." And with that, she takes her leave, sealing the door behind her.


	12. Twelve

**Twelve :::**

**Omnipresent**

_A/N: Whew! Alright, finally back! This chapter will be the closing arch for Isaac. Enjoy the read!_

* * *

"I don't like this plan," Strummer gravels out in the groups silence. "It's too much blind luck, anything can go wrong."

"What's a mistake is staying here," Shaila says. "Holding out isn't an option, no one is coming for us."

A murmur of voices sounded out at once in response to Shaila's words. She folds her arms and watches the dozens of human faces, plagued with fear and uncertainty. The same looks she remembered seeing on Zhu's Hope. They have no idea what kind of predicament they are in, or maybe the residual shell shock continues to prohibit any chance of coherent thoughts within their minds. Whatever reason it may be, Shaila needs all the humans at her disposal to at least semi-agree to her plan to escape the CEC facility and make their way to safety.

After the prolonged weeks she's spent onboard Titan Station and being a part of the Concordance's behind-closed-doors project, Shaila had took the liberty in studying the unlocked files on Director Tiedemann's personal terminal. The leading, head-hairless human had no idea that she used to sneak into his office when he wasn't around… and even at times when he was asleep in his bed, just mere feet from his desk at night. Shaila wasn't able to gain entry into some of files—password and even biometrically locked, not even a slicer app on an omni-tool could crack that. Nevertheless, Shaila didn't need those files anyway, all she needed and what she got was a detailed map of Titan Station.

From her time studying the map of this orbital space city, she was able to determine that it was host of about a dozen private hanger bays. These hangers weren't on any of the station's public maps, which meant only a handful of CEC execs—like the Director and other high ranking human officials knew about them. And since the station had went to hell in mere hours and the Director ending up dead, that cuts enough room for Shaila and the others under her charge in having a chance in making it off this rock with all their limbs. However, there is still one major issue standing in their way in doing any of the after mentioned thoughts, and Shaila braced herself for the upcoming rebuttals from her human counterparts.

"Okay…OKAY!" Strummer exclaims, silencing the bickering murmurs of the clumps of humans. Once his voice dissipates to the far out corners of the atrium, he speaks at a more tolerable volume. "So we wing it to the Public Sectors and flag down this _executive_ hanger… how do we even know a ship'll still be there?"

"There isn't a ship here, either," Shaila replies, choosing not to answer bluntly to an obvious rhetorical response. "It's a gamble—yes, but what do we have to lose if we remain within this section of the station? It's under a quarantine lockdown—for how long is anyone's guess."

"What if we disabled the quarantine?" Someone in the crowd suggests with uncertainty in their voice. "If it's possible…that is."

Actually, inactivating the quarantine measure was a plan Shaila had initially pondered on. She knew it was possible, and it's also was risky beyond any sane mind's capability. It wasn't as simple as flipping a switch—no. It required the total elimination of any of the lurking monsters within the CEC wing. Now declaring that out loud would surly draw confusion and instill instant fear within the people's hearts. It was a plan of last resort; one they may have no choice but to rely on.

"It is possible," Shaila says in the groups collective silence. "But none of you are going to like it…"

* * *

Isaac Clarke lost track of time. It felt like he's been locked in this makeshift med-bay for days, when in reality, only a handful of hours passed by. He's gotten used to the sensation of mere existence, of just breathing air that smelt of piss and boredom. It's a strange thing really, time. They always said that it was relative, through time and space, but mostly in the mind.

The good news out of this entire thing was that the medi-gel was doing what it was designed to do. Isaac's arm still moved as if it were stuck in slow-motion from the rest of his body. Though he guessed the damaged that left his nerves mangled would have to be surgically improved than just a mere healing paste that was meant to clot lethal hemorrhage. That's the last thing on his mind, as he paces the narrow space width of his holding area, from wall to wall. His mind continued to float back to the others… people he wouldn't call his friends, but they were close enough and more relatable than anyone thus far. The asari he spoke with hadn't mentioned anything of them, were they dead or held in separate holding areas, Isaac cloud only guess.

Since his stay in here, Isaac hasn't made any attempt to escape. He figured that if these people wanted him dead, they wouldn't have even wasted their time patching him up. And these _people _are the same ones who tortured him. Things certainly have changed, ever since all the guards vanished and this place went to hell. There was a reason these people wanted Isaac alive. And it was obvious to him of what they were keeping him around for…

…The glass sliding door divide open with a dragging hiss. Isaac turns his attention to the open doorway seeing a pair of men who seem vaguely familiar to him. Their uniforms he clearly remembers, from the time in the cell, and when he was laying down on that gurney at the mercy of the asari.

"Holy shit," one of the guards snickers, stepping through the doorway and into Isaac's domain. He cradles an Alliance style assault rifle in his hands as he approaches. The other guard lingers by the doorway.

"Green lady really is this desperate, huh?" The same guard said. His voice rough and stony like he smoked an entire pack of cigarettes all at once a moment ago. And then, Isaac recalls the guard's name.

"You," Isaac says, focusing his full attention on the guard. "You were there, in the cells."

"I was," the guard admitted nonchalantly. "No hard feelings, just doin' what I was told."

_That's what they all fucking say, _Isaac ponders, gritting his teeth behind an otherwise undisturbed expression.

The guard exchanged hands with his rifle and extended an open palm towards Isaac. "Name's Verick Strummer."

Isaac doesn't extend a hand, he doesn't even break his gaze off the taller, burlier man.

Verick shrugs and withdraws his hand, "Kay then."

"Where are the others who were with me?" Isaac questions. "Where are you keeping them?"

"They're sittin' pretty, okay? Just like you," Verick says. "Just the other was a bit loony, had to separate him from the rest."

"Stross…" Isaac murmurs.

"Stross, he's the one with blood on him right?" Verick asks.

Isaac simply nodded his head, backtracking into the room. "What do you want with us?"

"It's not what I want, more like what the asari needs from you," Verick says, shouldering his weapon and reaching a hand to his back pocket. Isaac eyeballed the man's hidden hand until he withdraws it, holding a box of cigarettes. "Now… and I'm speaking from the heart here," he slipped a single cig between his lips, igniting it with a draw of breath till the tip burns red hot. "I don't fuckin' trust you. _Either _of you. The second you do anything I don't like… you're gonna wish we were back at those cells."

A fury of anger and apprehension built inside Isaac's gut. He did his best to contain himself, even with the distant voices echoing in his mind trying to entice him with murderous thoughts and images. He envisioned himself, grabbing Verick by the throat and ripping out his Adam's apple. Another grisly sight, Isaac witnessed his hands ravaging the guard's face, gauging out his eyeballs with his thumbs. Of course, all those scenarios ended with Isaac being shot immediately by Verick's wordless counterpart, who remains by the door, glaring hard at Isaac.

Purging the heated annoyance out of his systems with a sigh, Isaac centers his thoughts and says, "you can threaten me all you want, but from what I see, I don't think you have any other choice but to trust me. You know what's out there," Isaac steps up to the man, having to bend his neck back to meet the guard's gaze. "I faced them before, you haven't. You wouldn't last a second out there."

Verick furrows his brow, puffing a plume of smoke into Isaac's face. "Don't push your luck too far. The second you're out there and make a slip up—guess what?" He leans forward, putting his face just inches away from Isaac's. "I'll be the one who'll slam your skinny ass on the ground. For ol' time's sake, aye?"

This time, Isaac wanted to smash his fist into Verick's face, make this asshole bleed and choke on that burning cigarette…

_'Do it—make him suffer like you've suffered'_

The voices, in the back of his head…

'_Show him the path—show him the path—SHOW HIM THE PATH—'_

"No!" Isaac shouts out, silencing the voices and granting him momentary peace.

Unaware of what just occurred, a blank, curious stare tames Verick's expression as he switches his cig from one corner of his mouth to the other.

"Anyway, green lady wants to speak with you," Verick says, the tone in his voice changed so quickly that it takes Isaac a second to realize the man isn't screwing around and is being serious.

"Not till I see my friends," Isaac says, turning his back to Verick and going back to his chair.

A hard hand slaps down on his good shoulder, freezing him in step. "Don't push me," Verick's usual steely tone warned. "She wants to see you. Now."

Rolling his shoulder, and freeing himself of Verick's hold, Isaac sighs, then turns to meet the guard's face. "Can I at least get a change of clothes?"

For a second, Isaac thought Verick was going to decline his request, instead, the guard turns his head not taking his eyes off Isaac. "Aye Fabien, go find something for this guy."

The other guard behind Verick retreats through the sliding doors without a word, leaving the two of them in a chocked silence.

Isaac steps back and falls into his chair, careful to keep the improvised sling holding his bad arm in place from hitting against the armrest. "I can sit, right? Or are you gonna bitch about that too?" Isaac says challengingly to Verick. The other man says nothing in return, besides throwing a furrowing glare his way.

Finally shedding that itchy smock that had been eating away at his flesh, Isaac exits his little holding area, following behind verick and the other guard into an enormous atrium. This atrium is much more luxurious in design than the callousness of the hospital Isaac and his companions left behind. Red velvet carpet adored the floor along with massive overhanding chandeliers which cascaded an iridescent hue throughout the otherwise void floor space.

The people staggering in place or huddled together in small groups are mostly human, possibly employees or unlucky civilians. Some of which look in Isaac's direction as he passes them by. He's never seen any of their faces, and he's equally positive that they'd never seen him. He was a lab rat after all, kept against his will by these people. And though it may have been unintentional in their eyes, Isaac's mind still draws the conclusion that they're just as guilty as Verick and the guards and the asari that tormented him. But none of that matters now. In just the short seconds of leaving his confined holding area, the scenario becomes increasingly clear to Isaac that these people are trapped. If they had their way, they would've long since left this atrium for the Public Sectors.

_ They're all just waiting to die,_ Isaac thought randomly, adverting his attention off an older woman occupying a lone seat along a row of chairs who hasn't blinked or moved a muscle since he laid eyes on her. Another man, dressed in a casual business suit paced madly across the floor, literally eating away at his fingernails. The others are just mingling about, nervously eyeing Isaac as he and his escorts cut a path straight through them.

Reaching the other end of the atrium Verick comes to a stops at the mouth of a corridor, leading down a set of steps that lead into another area. Inclining his head, Isaac read the overhanging sign, indicating the tramway system was down the way. Below the headline, a series of sprawling words ran across the digital screen: QUARANTINE FACTOR IN EFFECT.

"Go down here and keep straight," Verick mutters, gathering Isaac's attention off the board.

"You aren't coming?" Isaac asks.

"She wants you," Verick says, adjusting the shoulder strap of his rifle. "But I'll be watching."

"Yeah, what else is new?" Isaac says, passing the man by and continuing his way, alone. The carpeted floor transitions to metal under his feet, now thankfully encased in mismatched shoes he can actually fit. Deeper down the corridor he goes, and the darker it gets. The lighting of the atrium doesn't exist down here, besides the ominous glow of warning lights, sweeping the darkness in an amber glow like a lone lighthouse.

Following the short corridor all the way down, and Isaac finds himself in the dark tramway tunnel platform. An eerie, exposed feeling crawls over his skin, along with the coarse wind smelling of rustic steel and possibly blood filled his nostrils. He does his best, suppressing a shudder building into a tight knot in his got. He felt eyes on him, observing from the shadows… and he knows they aren't imaginary.

For a long moment, Isaac canvases the empty stretch of platform with his eyes for any signs of the asari. Nothing but the ambient movement of trash blowing in the quiet, artificial breeze.

"Hello?" He calls out, hearing his own echo reverberate back to his ears. No reply, no indication that anyone is there… nothing but perpetual silence.

"They said you wanted to talk to me," Isaac speaks out. "They told me you're down here." He waits a beat for a reply. None comes.

An exasperated sigh passes Isaac's lips, and he shakes his head. "But, if you keep playing this game of hide-and-seek… think I'll come back later."

Turning on his heel, prepared to walk back the way he came, Isaac's heart explodes with surprise and the blood in his veins flushes cold. Blocking his way is no one other than the asari, somehow appearing directly behind him without even making a sound.

"Now, is no better time," the asari says, her voice so low it hardly makes an echo in the acoustical air. "How's your damaged arm coming along?" The asari asks, approaching Isaac.

He shakes his head, "don't worry 'bout it," he says. "Just tell me what the hell's going on."

"Don't you remember?" The asari says, almost mockingly.

"I mean what's going on here, in this tunnel," Isaac rephrases.

The asari brings herself to a stop, a few feet from Isaac. She doesn't say anything for a while, studying Isaac's face with a glare that made Isaac more than uncomfortable.

"It's time you remembered who you were," she finally says. She gestures with her arm, pointing down the platform where the darken tunnel leads to a circular wall of black. "This way."

Isaac watches the asari casually step away, heading towards the tunnel. When she realizes he isn't following behind, the asari stops. "You want to get back to your friend, figure out why you're here, then you'll follow me." She steps off again, making her statement final.

Again, Isaac holds on to his suspicions. This asari—this alien did just broke into his mind and sent him on the biggest acid trip that'll be every crackhead's wet-dream. So why the hell would he trust her, with anything?

_What do I have to lose? _He contemplates, remembering the reason he kept Stross around. He needed answers, and Isaac knew those answers wouldn't just come pouring out the asari's mouth or any of the guard's willingly. He has to take that risk, that one step past the threshold. If he doesn't, then he's a dead man anyway once those creatures—whatever the hell they are—come back and finished the job on him this time. For now, the asari and her guard lackeys are tools at his disposal, and Isaac's determined to use them to his advantage.

Settling his mind, Isaac walks after the asari, who has already made it down the length of the platform, standing at the mouth of the tram's tunnelway.

Reaching the asari, Isaac notices a metallic object on the floor, just at the teal skinned humanoid's feet. It's an axe, the same type Nick used to fend off those creatures. Now that Isaac looks at it, the axe is the _same _one Nick had.

Before he could question the asari of how she got the thing, she cuts him off. "Pick it up," she says, staring sternly into Isaac's face with those same, dark eyes he's come to hate.

Scrunching his face into a frown, Isaac shakes his head. "What?"

"Pick it up," the asari repeats.

Isaac holds his eyes on the asari, indecision surging through him. "Why?"

"Why not?" The asari shoots back. "What's stopping you?"

_What is stopping me?_ Isaac ponders, eyes searching for input within his own being.

"This is another one of your tests," he says. "You said this was our final one."

"We haven't even started yet," the asari says. "This isn't procedure one—you're still on zero." Folding her arms behind her back, the asari says with more urgency, "pick it up."

"And do what?" Isaac questions, getting irritated. "How do I know this isn't another trick or if I'm in another one of those fucked up dream seque—"

—An invisible force slams into Isaac's chest, sending him off his feet and rushing the air right out his lungs. He sides across the trash littered floor until feeling his back hitting against one of the tunnel's support pillars.

"Still think this is a dream?"

The asari's voice came suppressed to Isaac's ears, hidden behind the intense beat of his heart resonating in his ears.

A hollow, metallic hiss scratched the floor; Isaac's spots the axe coming to a sliding rest at his feet. "Now pick up the damn axe, human."

Renewed anger invades Isaac's body, eliminating the surrealism just a half second ago. Grabbing the axe handle up off the floor, Isaac gets back on his feet. "Okay—I got the fuckin' axe, now what the hell else you want to tell me, huh?!"

His echo fades, until the silence of the tunnel returns.

The asari fixes her posture into a more relaxed stance. "Come with me, in the tunnel." Without another word, the asari steps to the platform's edge and leaps down the ledge onto the track.

Blinking perplexingly, Isaac follows after. The near whispery voices in the back of his head seem to agree.

"Carful, the outside rail on the left is still active," the asari says to him, once he made it onto the darken tracks. "You step on that, and you will die… and last I checked, that's the least of our problems."

Isaac nods his agreements, knowing good and well on what she means first hand. "So what now?" He asks, adjusting his grip on the axe handle.

"Now, our test truly begins," the asari says, with a hint of a nervous smile playing across her lips. "But before we can continue, I'll need your trust."

An unexpected laugh tickles Isaac's insides. "You're joking, right? I wouldn't trust enough to loan a penny."

"I know how things were between us before," the asari says. "But what choice do you really have?"

"I've been asking myself that question ever since I walked out of that cell on my own terms," Isaac says.

"Very fortunate that you did," the asari says. "No one should be caged like that—let alone a sentient."

"Save your pity," Isaac says, rougher than he intended. "Just get on with whatever this is so I can get back to my people."

This draws a look of confusion on the asari's face. "Your _people._ You mean the other test sub—I mean, the others you escaped with?"

"Uh… yeah, who the hell else," Isaac replies.

The asari shakes her head distractingly, a contemplative look on her face. It only lasts a second, before returning to that usual, stoic, unreadable mask. "Of course," she says. "We should start walking." Turning around, the asari begins walking down the darken tunnel, humming a hollow ambience that sends a knot forming in Isaac's gut. Tightening his grip on the handle, Isaac purges the fear with anger, and steps into the tunnel.

* * *

_Earlier_

"Oh—you gotta be fuckin' serious woman!" Strummer exclaimed in Shaila's face. "What—what did the Director inject you with 'let me make bad decisions' serum or somethin'!? You gotta be fuckin stupid, man."

Shaila bit hard on her tongue, arms crossed so hard across her chest the breath in her lungs felt constricted. It wasn't her own doing, but of this human meat bag spitting vile in her face. Fortunate for him, the two of them were in what little privacy they could find in the corner of the atrium. But the humans constant shouting—constant insults echoed loudly through the chamber, gathering nervous glares from the other humans in the vicinity.

"Keep your voice down!" Shaila whispered sharply. "You're scaring the others."

Strummer stuck a finger in her face, it took everything in Shaila from trusting it away. Not with her hands, but with her mind, which'll surely pulverize the pathetic human's entire arm bone to dust fragments.

"They should be scared," Strummer said through grit teeth, finger still hovering between Shaila's eyes. "They are afraid, not just of those fuckin things upstairs… but of _them." _He finally dropped that finger, taking a step back, agitated hands on his hips. "And you want to let them out—patched one of them up with our medi-gel."

"Last I checked, he's the only one seriously injured," Shaila said, pushing her back off the pillar she was leaning against. "He dies… and you know what'll happen. The same incident that spawned your Director Tiedemann will occur with him."

"We don't know what the hell that thing was!" Strummer said, exaggeratingly pointing behind him at some imaginary, invisible thing. "It may had looked like the Director, but that could've been anything—an alien we've never seen before."

Shaila scoffed a laugh, "you can suspend your denial all you want. I know what those thing were. They were the Director, his indenture servant and personal guard."

Strummer narrowed his eyes with bewilderment, "humans don't have indenture servants, and another thing…" he stepped close to Shaila, in a threatening matter she's observed humans do as a way of showing intimidation over someone else. "You ain't letting them two psycho's outta that closet. I don't give a fuck if the _Goddesses _themselves come down in this bitch in a ball of light and tell you otherwise. We'll never get that desperate."

Shaila contained her anger best she could. How dare this human insult her this way… purposely injecting some sick and twisted witticism in vane against the Goddesses. If they weren't trapped on this damn space station with lurking beast trying to kill them… she would've took her time dissecting the human with her biotic powers, savoring his screams… enjoying the sight his organs oozing out one-by-one…

Catching herself, and realizing her gruesome thoughts, the ravaging heat of anger that coiled around Shaila loosened its grip. A numb understanding flooded her mind, and she knew what was happening to her.

"I'm losing control," she muttered.

"What?" Strummer said, backing up two steps.

Shaila held a hand to her forehead, as if trying to keep a part of her conscious from falling out. "The infection… it's trying to spread," she said mostly to herself. "I have to get off this station—before I end up like them."

"Look, maybe you should just take a seat, aye?" Shaila felt the human male's hand touching her shoulder, of which she instinctively flinched off. "Don't touch me," she found herself sneering.

"Kay then," Strummer said, raising his arms and backtracking.

Finding a seat, Shaila buried her face into her hands, trying to streamline her mind to think of nothing for a moment—to fall back to her meditative state that took her away from this reality. But she didn't have the time to sit and meditate. She had to set pieces in place—to ensure her own survival and the other innocent humans with her. She knew the tests subjects were her key to further extending her life beyond this point, and she'd be a fool if she let someone like _Strummer _stand in her way. Honestly, Shailia was surprised in her own patients with these humans, but she also needed them as well. Painful as the thought was, she also needed Strummer, since he had the code in toggling the active security systems around here.

"Strummer…" a young male voice grabbed Shaila out of thought. Lifting her face up, she turned and saw the young human—Aiden his name was—jogging across the floor space before coming to a halt when he was near. "He's stable, sir—the subject."

"His name's Isaac Clarke," Shaila corrected, rubbing at her temples.

The two humans stared at her, Aiden wearing a look of nervousness and Strummer holding that usual deadpan look.

"What—we're gonna start naming them now? Like pets or something?" Strummer said with an irritated laugh. Shaila didn't care how the human felt about her comment—or anything really. He's a means to end to her eyes, and honestly, she wouldn't care if he suddenly dropped dead right now…

_Again, the thoughts,_ she reflected, feeling her heart spike with anxiety. Now that she pondered on it, Strummer could be facing similar thoughts—or everyone else in this atrium. This station was infected by something that invaded the mind… Shaila knows this first hand, on multiple occasions.

Zhu's Hope was just the beginning, as hectic and crazy that ordeal was. Her powers nearly killed the First Human Specter…

"Is Isaac awake?" Shaila asked Aiden.

The glittery human shook his head, "n-no, but he will, eventually."

"What 'bout leg biter?" Strummer asked, referring to the Isaac's counterpart, Nolan Stross. "He locked up good?"

"We got Fabien on watch," Aiden said.

"Tell Fabien, that if that fucker tries anything to put a bullet in his skull," Strummer said.

Aiden went rigid then bobbed his head, "y-yes sir." The younger human then walked off at a quick pace to relay the order.

Shaila muttered a slight laugh, "and here I thought you humans didn't have indentured servants."

Strummer said nothing in return, rubbing a hand at the rough patch of hair at his chin. "We still gotta tell them something," he said, inclining his head in the direction of the mingling humans at the center of the atrium. "Like it or now, they're our responsibility. Can't just leave them to die because of two freaks."

"Those freaks may be our best bet," Shaila said. "You didn't see what they went through—I did. They've been through this before, they survived. It'll be illogical for you _not _to at least give them a chance."

"I don't trust them," Strummer said.

"I never said you have to trust them," Shaila said, leaning back in her chair. "Just…use their talents to help us survive. Just give me time with them, alone. I think I can reach one of them."

Strummer shook his head, biting at his lower lip. "I can't take that risk."

"Then it's a good thing _you _won't have to," Shaila said, earning a sideways glance from the gruff human's face.

* * *

"How far this thing goes?" Isaac asks, his voice bending and warping in the darken tram tunnel. Ahead of him by several feet, the asari leads the way, lighting a path ahead of them with a familiar flashlight Isaac swears belonged to Nick when he initially crossed paths with the other man.

_The axe the flashlight…_

"It's not far, Isaac," Shaila replies over her shoulder. "And keep your voice low, minimize the echo."

Nodding absently to the asari's statement, Isaac nervously eyes the darken sloped walls flanking him on all sides. There's little to no light in this tunnel, besides some occasional track lights on the walls and ceiling. He takes his eyes off his surroundings, focusing on the asari's back.

"So what's your name?" Isaac asks.

It takes a moment for the asari to come back with, "Shaila. I am called Shaila."

"Isaac—but you already knew that…" He pauses for a beat, coming back with, "I bet you know Nicole, and Hammond and Daniels. I bet you saw how my girlfriend killed herself…?"

The asari doesn't reply this time.

"Yeah, bet you know a lot of things about me," Isaac says. "Probably things I totally forgot about."

Again, nothing from the asari. It becomes obvious that Shaila doesn't feel like _talking, _which is fine with Isaac. He just wants to meet the end of this mysterious last test the asari's leading him into.

After walking for what felt like close to fifteen minutes, the claustrophobic walls of the tunnel start to retreat, leading to a larger open area beyond. A maintenance yard for the trams, Isaac proposes. At the end of the tunnel, Isaac makes out two bulky shaped machines on either side of the track.

"Strummer, deactivate the defenses," Shaila said, as if speaking to herself. It takes Isaac's mind a split second to realize that Shaila has an earpiece com device.

_No wonder she's been so calm,_ he contemplates, looking over his shoulder back the way they came.

"Isaac, come," Shaila says, stepping into the open area.

Passing the machines, Isaac sees that they are sentry defense turrents. Taking his first steps into the tram yard, Isaac's feet crunch down on a familiar sickly object. He can't see it, but the sickening stench of flesh and blood is enough to paint the picture in spades.

"More of those things are down here," Isaac muses aloud. "She's leading me towards…"

_STAY ON THE PATH, DON'T BE AFRAID, ISAAC…_

"Isaac!"

Turning sharply on his heels, Isaac stares back down the tunnel, where a familiar, deep voice shouted his name. Emerging from the shrouding darkness, a lone humanoid figure comes running towards Isaac's direction. Squinting, Isaac makes out…. _Nick?_

Drawing his eyebrows into a tight confused expression, Isaac just stares at Nick as the taller man jogs up to him.

"Man, where the fuck you think you goin'?" Nick asks, shrugging his arms. "You just gonna leave me behind…? What 'bout my daughter—you was gonna leave her to?!" Nick shoved Isaac roughly, sending the latter staggering back a few feet, nearly tripping over one on of the rails. "Though we had a deal motherfucka! You was gonna show me where my daughter went, 'member that?!"

_DON'T BE AFRAID, ALL IS WELL…_

Stunned Isaac can only shrug, "I… I don't know. Wh-What are you doing here, Nick? How'd you get pass the guards—how you know I was down here?"

"You cain't hide from me, Isaac…"

_HE HAS A KNIFE—HE HAS A KNIFE—HE HAS A KNIFE—_

"Cain't run either, bitch!"

Slashing an arm out he held behind him, Nick slashes a horizontal gash across the front of Isaac's shirt. "Whoa! Nick—what the fuck man!"

"You had this coming Isaac," Nick says, holding the short metallic blade of his knife at the ready for another jab. "Think you can leave me behind… leave my daughter behind…"

"I didn't leave you, Nick," Isaac says, gradually backing away from the enraged man who finally went over the edge. "I don't want to fight you," he says, dropping the axe on the ground. "We have bigger problems than this."

"Bigger than my baby girl!" Nick shouts, on the verge of tears. "Ain't nothing bigger than her Isaac NOTHIN'!"

"Okay—okay alright, you're right Nick, there isn't," Isaac says. "But right now, she's depended on us to make the right call, right now. We're getting nowhere fighting like this."

_THE MARKER IS THE ONLY RIGHT CALL…_

"Why you following that asari then?" Nick asks. "That bitch was in our heads—made us relive that nightmare over and fuckin' over again!"

"Nick, just listen to me…"

"No! I'm through with you, Isaac!"

Nick takes off, rushing at Isaac, knife at the ready. Bodies collide, Isaac trips, falling hard on his back with Nick on top of him. With only one good arm, Isaac struggles against Nick's enraged efforts to plunge the blade into his chest.

"You had this coming Isaac," Nick said through hard grit teeth. "Tell Nicole I said hi."

A rekindled jet of anger overtakes Isaac's mind. Fueling his hate, Isaac's strength increases tenfold. He manages to pull Nick's hand back wielding the knife and turns the man over until he's the one on top now. A battle for possession over the knife induces, whereas Isaac and Nick roll and tumble across the rail tracks.

Isaac manages to slap the knife out of Nick's hand, by bashing the other man's hand repeatedly against a rail.

"It's over!" Isaac shouts into Nick's face, holding the man down by the neck. "Now you need to calm down."

Struggling in his grip, Nick was trying to say something.

"What?" Isaac says, loosening his grip just enough to allow Nick a word.

"Behind…ch'yew!"

A sudden, hot stinging pain exploded in Isaac's upper back. The air in his lungs rushed out as he fell forward, onto the cold hard ground. wheezing for air.

* * *

Dragging herself up off the ground, Shaila held a hand to her neck, where just seconds ago Isaac was close to chocking her to death.

"Told you this was a stupid ass plan!" Strummer says, pointing the barrel of his weapon on Isaac, staggering on the ground.

"Don't shoot him," Shaila pleas, struggling to speak through the soreness of her throat. "I can still reach him!"

"You had your chance," Strummer says, pointing the end of the barrel at the back of Isaac's head. "I'm putting this freak down for good!"

"I said DON'T!" Throwing a savage fist out, an electric shimmer ripples across the air until slamming into Strummer. The human goes flying, well off his feet and into the air. Arms and legs flaring, Strummer crashes back to the ground, sliding across the ground until his entire body explodes in a blinding flash of light. Screams of agony and red hot sparks ignited the maintenance bay until folding back into an eerie silence.

A heartbeat later, as the anger and fear wash off of her and the stench of burnt flesh reaches her nostrils does Shaila realized what she'd done.

"No… I—I didn't mean to…" she cuts her own sentence short, hearing the approaching roars of the monsters—those _Necromorphers_ emerging from the shadows around them. With Strummer burnt to a crisp on the rail, there was no way Shaila could turn the defenses back online.

_Goddess, it planned this all along,_ Shaila dreads. "It used us."

The roars grow louder, sending incoherent echoes through the maintenance bay. In the distance, Shaila makes out a few forms of the alien creatures.

"They're coming," Isaac stampers out, grabbing the axe and staggering to his feet. "We need to go."

Shaila shakes her head, "we can't. We won't outrun them."

The human grabs at her arm, attempting to pull her away, "you can't stop them, they'll kill you."

"We can stop them, we have no choice," Shaila says. "This is our final test, Isaac. This is where the Marker wanted us all along."

The words didn't come out as her own, Shaila knows this. She felt her mind floating as if weightless… taken under the control by a power greater than herself. The Marker, finally breaking her resilience and using her as a vessel.

"We can defeat them Isaac, we have no choice but to try." Fear reshapes the human's face, and Shalia knew she's asking too much for him too soon. But the Marker has other plans for them, since the start of this nightmare.

Barring on them, the creatures were on them now. Shaila's primal instincts screamed for her to run… to fleet and forget this plight. She half expected Isaac to run, but the human remains at her side, holding his axe at the ready. Shaila actually cracks a thin smile of admiration. Despite it all, Shaila's confident that Isaac Clarke, had rediscovered himself.

* * *

A/N: _I know, trippy chapter. Isaac losing his shit… Nick appearing /vanishing…was there ever a Nick? Anyway, get ready for change of scenery for I'm bringing the Commander back next chapter. Still split between bringing either Ashley or Kaiden in later, might just roll a dice to figure it out._


	13. Thirteen

**Thirteen :::**

**In Those Three Days…**

* * *

_Sol System_

_Earth_

_North American Territory_

_Systems Alliance Site: Vancouver _

_Present Day_

* * *

So this is what doing the right thing feels like. Having your hands tied, unable to do the littlest things without someone peaking over your shoulder or poking around in your private life, hiding behind the chucked up excuse of 'just following orders'. Hell, you can't even have the luxury to piss in an actual toilet anymore. It's these little things John Shepard hadn't thought of when he turned the _SR-2_ _Normandy _over to the Alliance. He had every good intention in the universe to do so, but now, as he sits alone at the table in the empty mess hall, all those previous thoughts are bashed to the back of his brain and replaced by regret.

Going on six months since the Commander arrived in the Sol System, towing in what was left of the Cerberus vessel. From that point on, Shepard was grounded by Alliance Command and relieved of his rank and duty. The bigwigs in Alliance Command confiscated the ship, which held the remains of fifty servicemen and colonists alike, along with those that…died and transformed. The first responders that boarded the _Normandy _had no idea what the hell happened. That was until one unlucky Alliance Marine mistaken the many caskets holding the remains of the turned colonists as weapons crates, and had the shock of her life when she opened one and saw for herself.

"I told her not to," Shepard had said, during one of about a dozen debriefs from Alliance Naval Intelligence. "I stated that they were coffins, but she nor her CO believed me."

"Reading Major Colling's report, it's stated that the bodies inside the coffins didn't look… _human._"

Shepard lingered an eye on the three rear-admirals, seated behind a desk slightly raised off the floor and ornamented with the Systems Alliance flag that solidified their authority over him.

A stone had set in Shepard's gut as he chose his next words carefully. "They once were, ma'am. I believe without a doubt that the colonists my team and I extracted were victimized by the Collectors, who were…"

"Yes, agents to these _Reapers,_" the admiral seated to the far left side of the desk said dismissively. "We read your report, Commander. As detailed as it was, there still isn't any factual evidences that these—Collectors you refer to them as had any allegiances to the so-called Reapers."

Shepard chewed on his tongue, unable to fathom the idea that Naval Intelligence would just dismiss his hard facts as fabrications. To be honest, he wasn't really that surprised. Years prior, the Citadel Council dismissed his claims about the Reaper threat, even after Sovereign attacked the damn thing in clear view of a few million people. No matter how detailed—how hard he illustrates the facts, the galactic brass that make all the decisions would always turn a blind eye to everything he's done for them. Especially now, since the Commander's been running around with Cerberus… no one in Alliance Command would trust a word he breaths.

"Well even if you don't believe me with the Reapers," Shepard began. "It still doesn't detour the fact that hundreds of human were killed by these aliens. It's also valid that the Collectors only targeted humans and no other species, so even if you're a hint skeptical on the Reaper Threat… you can't denial those the Collectors kidnapped and ultimately slaughtered to fuel their agenda."

Admiral Forester, the one seated to the right rubbed at the ridge of his eyebrow. "Commander, no one on this panel is dismissing what happened to the human colonists taken in the Terminus Systems. Your affiliation with Cerberus, along with your incooperation to elaborate on certain aspects of your mission has lead us to a stalemate on where to draw the conclusion with you."

Shepard arched an eyebrow to the Admiral's sentence, "_incooperation_? Sir, with all due respect I haven't fabricated or mislead this panel at any point."

Admiral Florence Black drew a slight smirk, "you might not have lied, but you certainly are telling the full picture, are you now, Commander?"

Shepard remained silent, clenching his jaw.

"After you and your team emerged out of the Omega Four relay and after the incident occurred onboard, you made course-way to an otherwise uninhabited, remote region of space, to a star system called Sowilo." Admiral Black went on to say. "From the nav-computer recovered from the _Normandy,_ we were able to determine that the vessel hadn't moved in over three days."

Shepard fought from fidgeting in his seat, disciplining himself to remain as still as possible, eyes unblinking and face solid with focused determination.

"We were badly damaged," Shepard muttered. "Our mass effect core was compromised and our hull had multiple breaches."

"Then why didn't you order your helmsmen to plot a course for Omega Station?" Admiral Tyrell asked. "Why risk a seven hour FTL transit to an uncharted region of space if the ship had suffered critical integrity issues of that magnitude?"

Shepard anticipated such a question, and had a convincing response right off the bat. "My orders were to rendezvous with a Cerberus cruiser," he began to say, keeping his voice leveled and substantial. "They wanted the data on the Collector base… I refused to give it to them. As I've stated on the record on multiple occasions both written and oral: I've never worked with or for Cerberus willingly. They provided me with the means, with resources, but everything I did was in light of the Alliance and for the human race. I knew what they were the moment that revived me in that lab of theirs."

"So you refused to deliver the intel," Admiral Tyrell began, twirling his hand as in indication of more to say. "And what, Cerberus just departed the system and left you be? They didn't attempt to retrieve it by force? Because of what I've seen and read in your report, the _Normandy _was in no condition to defend itself. Even a squadron of volus fighters could've taken you out with one burst."

Shepard shrugged, "I though the same thing, Admiral. We were outgunned and outnumbered yet Cerberus withdrew from the system, leaving us behind."

A pause, much longer than Shepard was willing lingered in the air. Shepard could feel the tension in the room as the three admiral's eyed him and their datapads prompted up on the desk in front of them. There was no hiding from facts he illustrated in his lengthy after-action report. It took more than one mind to actually draft it up… and to be severely honest with himself, not all of it was true. Shepard continued to keep himself composed, despite the swirling thoughts on the fake accounts swimming in his head.

"So after Cerberus departed this system," Admiral Black began. "And spared your crew and the vessel… why didn't you depart soon after? There was no logical reason in you staying within the region for…" she glanced back down at her datapad, tacking on "eighty-one hours." She folded her hands on top the desk. "That's an awful long time to be lingering in a deadly sector of space with no habitable worlds, spaces docks or anything that the Alliance wouldn't know about."

Shepard felt a numb sensation tame his body; "we taxed our mass effect core getting to the system—as I've stated for the record. We had to launch probes to collect whatever ezzo we could harness from the system's major gas giant."

The admirals' collective gazes fell back down to their datapads. Shepard knew each of them saw the paragraph he was talking about, along with a drawn-out info dump on the _Normandy's_ propulsion bay, the damaged interior infrastructure along with the biohazard threat of alien and human blood splatter tainting the decks, which slowed the repair process down. Of course, most of what they were reading was BS fabrication, more or less.

"We repaired what we could while the core restarted itself," Shepard spoke in the Admirals' concentrative silence. "Processed the dead… took head counts on surviving members of my crew… assigned duties to those that could still make rational decisions…"

Images flashed before Shepard's eyes. Vivid and clear, showing the hectic aftermath of the attack. He relived that moment he loaded that little girl's body into that faceless coffin, lined in the hanger bay alongside the dozens that were down there…

"…Commander?"

Breaking out of his daze, Shepard connected his eyes onto Admiral Tyrell, "sir?"

The admiral gave Shepard his full attention. "I asked you for the name of the ship."

His attention clear, Shepard squinted in confusion, "name of what ship, sir?"

"Of this Cerberus Cruiser you rendezvous with," Tyrell went on, sliding his datapad aside, cuffing a hand to his chin. "What was the name of it?"

_Damnit, he's on to something… _Shepard thought.

"Because I didn't see an identifier of the ship's name, classification," Tyrell shrugged, in a nonchalant matter that concealed what was really on his mind. But Shepard knew what the Admiral was thinking, he'd found a hole in his story, and the admiral was determined to expand that weakness.

"I can't recall that information sir," Shepard said.

"Can't or unwilling?" Admiral Forester injected. The grey haired man had a stricter tone than before, almost accusing. "You say you didn't work for Cerberus _willingly_, but from our point of view, it is obviously clear that you're also withholding potential evidences on this organization's actives."

"I've told you everything that I could," Shepard said, knotting his hands together in his lap. "Cerberus aren't exactly an open book. It's not like they told me everything the second I woke up." He waited a beat, separating his hands and relaxing them on his lap. "And Cerberus aren't even the real threat, it's the Reapers! They're planning a full invasion on all sentient life—determined to do what they did to my crew on you and everyone you ever seen or cared about… and you're worried about a damn name to a ship!"

The admirals stiffened in their chairs. "Correct your tone, Commander," Tyrell said firmly.

Shepard shook his head, "no?"

Tyrell cocked his head sharply, expression pale and eyes bulging, "excuse me?"

Shepard shot up out his seat and stormed up to the desk. Within seconds of his actions, Shepard felt two hard hands clamp onto this shoulders and digging into his biceps; the two Alliance Marines positioned at their stationary post at the side of the room reacted. Despite the two marine's efforts, Shepard hardly bulged an inch back when they attempt to drag him back into his seat. They had no idea that he wasn't exactly a _normal _human anymore.

"I'm not gonna sit here like some criminal having a trial!" Shepard said…shouted, really. "Screw talking about Cerberus. _Fuck_ them! All I want is to get back out there and kill that Reaper son-of a bitch who killed my crew!" Spittle flew out of Shepard's mouth and the rage ate at his insides like a hot oven. He couldn't hear his own shouts behind the pounding ring that bounced inside his skull.

"Escort the Commander from this panel at once," Admiral Black said to the marines. "We'll continue this debrief at a later date."

"Don't bother!" Shepard said, snatching his shoulder free of the marines. "I'll gladly walk myself out."

* * *

Chewing his food in silence, Shepard savors the tasteless flavor of the Alliance food ration. He tries to engross himself in an extranet news story, but his mind continues to fall back to that debriefing with Alliance Naval Intelligence that went south real fast. It's true, Shepard never really felt like himself ever since Cerberus spent two years reconstructing his mind and body. Miranda assured him that there was nothing wrong with him, and that he was as good as when he fought and killed Saren and Sovereign on the Citadel. But that Shepard didn't blast biotic waves from his body… nor did he execute unarmed mercenaries that came in his way. The older Shepard was humble, patient… those aspects flew out the window the second Shepard learned the Collectors were taking humans and the Alliance wasn't doing anything about it, but a known terrorist group was. The only thing on Shepard's mind now is to stop the Reapers and their insidious agendas to off organics for good. He doesn't need Cerberus nor the Alliance to do that, he just needs to get back out there. But getting off Earth now is a pipe dream.

"Mind if I join you, Commander?"

Glancing off his datapad, Shepard looks up and sees Rear-Admiral David Anderson taking a seat in the pew across from him.

"Don't know if you can still call me _Commander_ anymore, Admiral," Shepard says, setting his datapad aside.

"Shit, after what you did, I'm surprise they let you in this building," Anderson says, settling in his seat.

"Each day I spend here feels more like I'm in prison," Shepard says, eyeing the ceiling and noting the omnidirectional security camera, spying in on him. "You know they won't even allow me to go outside? I can't even take a proper shit in a toilet that I can flush anymore."

"That bad huh? Well It could be worse," Anderson says. "At least Alliance Command's choosing to work with you Shepard? A lotta guys that walked in yours shoes would've been hung and left for the vultures."

Shepard rubs a hand at his tired eyes, "they haven't cannibalized me yet because of all the PR. First human Spectre, traitor to the Alliance… deranged conspiracy theorist—you name it, they've thrown it on me."

"Shepard, the Alliance is tossing you a lifeline, it's the least they can do in spite of what's going on."

Sighing into his hand, Shepard grabs his datapad off the table. "I know, the batarians are pissed off at us for blowing that relay," lowering the device, Shepard eyes Anderson. "But it had to be done, Anderson. You and I both know why."

Anderson opens his mouth, attempting to say something aloud only to catch himself. Leaning close on his elbows, he says in a near whisper, "to stop the Reapers—I know, but that's not how the Alliance or the galaxy sees it. Far as they're concerned, we just killed three-hundred thousand batarian citizens—the biggest terrorist attack in galactic _history!_"

"Which'll pale in comparison as to what the Reapers will do to us once they make it out of Dark Space."

An astounded look comes over Anderson's expression. The admiral slides back, "I'm beginning to wonder if the colonists were human… would we had made the same decision."

Shepard shakes his head dismissively, taking a sip of water from his cup. "Human, batarian hanar… wouldn't matter if the Reapers got through that Relay. We delayed the inevitable, Anderson. The Reapers—they have plans for every galactic race and they'll be no way we can stop them. Not if we're at each other throats." Shepard lowers his cup back on the table. "And I don't care if that colony was full of cute turian babies… I would've set the relay off the second—the _second _I heard Harbinger and its Reapers were coming through."

A frown forms on Anderson's face, as the older man crosses his arms.

Noting his own words, Shepard dials back the cynicism and his tone. "Sorry. It's just… I can't stand being here while the Reapers are out there. I can't stomach the fact that they got the last laugh."

"What happened onboard the _Normandy…_" Anderson says, after exhaling strongly through his nostrils. "No ship commander should go through. It's obvious this Harbinger Reaper fired a cheap shot when your back was turned. Fortunately," Anderson extends an arm, clamping a reassuring firm hand on Shepard's shoulder. "You made it back. You beat that Reaper SOB."

Shepard nods in agreement to that. "I still don't know what happened to my crew," he says. "Dead and the live ones."

Anderson withdraws his arm, "last I heard, they were swept away and interviewed by non-Alliance personnel months ago. Naval Intelligence gave them the green light. Now I've never seen these people before in my life, I didn't even have clearance to ask who they were."

"And Naval Intelligence has the audacity to tell me I'm the one with the big secrets," Shepard says, pointing a thumb at his own chest.

"Well, you _were_ with Cerberus, Shepard," Anderson says. "Hell, I even saw you with my own two eyes back on the Citadel."

Shepard cocks a grin, "yeah I remember. Sorry if I gave you a heart attack."

The two men fall into a leisure silence, until its broken by Anderson. "Shepard, there's something I think you should know."

Bringing his eyes up, Shepard reads Anderson's face.

"What happened on the _Normandy…_ wasn't isolated."

Sitting up straight, Shepard gives Anderson his full attention.

"It…it happened elsewhere," Anderson goes on, stressing his words. "The _Normandy…"_

"I know," Shepard whispers.

Anderson's eyes widen, a fixed expression of confusion and shock warped on his face. "You… you know?"

Shepard dips his head in a brisk nod.

"How?"

Shepard bites hard on his tongue. He has no reasonable explanation to tell his former Captain. Anderson may be in his corner on the impending Reaper threat, but Shepard knew he'd be pushing the boundaries of Anderson's belief if he told him how he knew the alien outbreak on the _Normandy _was just one of a dozen that occurred across the galaxy.

"You wouldn't believe me," Shepard says shaking his head slowly. "Not on this one, sir."

Anderson held a look of disbelief. "How can you say that? After all we've been through together Shepard, I've always been there to council you…"

"Sir, just trust me, okay?" Shepard says. "Just trust me."

Shepard sees no point in cooking up a lie to Anderson. He could've simply said Cerberus had intel on the matter, but Shepard knew that'll detour Alliance Brass into pouring more resources in investigate Cerberus, which is a waste of time. The truth is something Anderson should always be made aware of. He's the only person within the Alliance that Shepard can actually trust. But what happened on the _Normandy_… Shepard can't drag Anderson into that mess. It ran deeper than Shepard could've ever imagined.

"Parton the intrusion, sirs."

Looking up to the source of the voice, Shepard sees his minder, James Vega coming over.

"But Command wants to see you, sir."

"If it's alright with you, Sergeant, think I can escort the Commander down to the panel?" Anderson asks.

Vega shrugs, "don't think I can say no to you, Admiral."

"That's a yes then," Anderson says, sweeping his leg over the pew and standing. "Come on Commander."

Collecting his datapad, Shepard stands and follows after Anderson, making their way for the mess hall exit. Once the two made it to the marginally busy hall, Anderson leans in and says, "you and I have a lot of catching up to do."

Shepard fights a grin from forming on his face. "Don't worry, I'll mail you the book once I'm done writing it."

* * *

Seated before the three Admirals, Shepard took the chance to look around the room, noting it now has four Marines rather than two this time around. An unnecessary show of force really.

"Commander, welcome back," Admiral Black says. "Hope you had a pleasant week to clear your mind before we start today."

"I have, ma'am," Shepard says. "And I'll like to apologize for my previous actions. I was out of line." Shepard darts his eyes to Admiral Tyrell; the other man holding a deadpan expression, twirling a stylus pen between his fingers.

"This panel acknowledges your apology, Commander," Admiral Forester says. "Now let's take this panel off the floor, shall we?"

Shepard nods.

"Today Commander, we'll like to pick up where we left off last week," Admiral Black starts. "Now we've had time to digest your after-action report, commander, and I fear we've hit a snag in some of your accounts, preceding your assault on the Collector Base. This panel has its reasons to believe that this Cerberus Cruiser you encountered, never existed."

"We recovered the _Normandy's_ hail recorder," Forster pitches in. "There is no evidence supporting that a ship-to-ship comline was ever established with this vessel at the time you said you rendezvoused with it."

Shepard plays the nonchalant card, "why would I make this up?"

"You tell us?" Admiral Tyrell fires back. "It's a simple matter of yes or no, Commander. No more half-truths."

"I've already told you what happened," Shepard says. "You spat in my face about the Reapers, now you're spitting in my face about this trivial matter. How am I supposed to defend myself when every step I take you criticize with suspicion?"

"Why do you feel as if you're _defending _yourself?" Admiral Black asks. "We just want the full truth on what happened in those three days you spent in that star system, Commander."

Bottling his annoyance best he can, Shepard says, "I've already provided you with that information. What more do you need?"

"Incorrect, Commander," Tyrell says. "The account you gave us counteracts your written statement. You claim you fired off various probes to replenish resources for your vessel. How would that be possible if your launch bay was incapable of launching these probes? I didn't have to read your report, Commander, I saw the ship myself… the day it was towed in. The exterior hull surrounding the launch bay was completely caved in, rendering it inadequate for typical operations. So we will ask you again Commander, one last time. What were you doing in those three days in the Sowilo System?"

_Son of a bitch!_ Shepard screeches inside his head. These bastards are more relentless than he ever predicted. They aren't letting this thing go anytime soon, and Shepard's running out of convincing gags to distract them with.

_"'The Alliance is tossing you a lifeline,'" _Anderson had told him.

"Damnit," Shepard mutters.

"What was that Commander?" Admiral Forester asks. "Speak louder please, for the record."

Contemplating his next words thoroughly, Shepard lowers his head, preparing himself.

"I…I lied," he coughs out.

"A little louder than that," Tyrell says.

"I said I lied," Shepard says with more volume, his heart flushes cold. "You want to know what happened in those three days..." he pauses suddenly, considering where to go with this. "Well, I…"

A noisy snap of the door opening to the briefing hall stuns Shepard along with the Admirals. Booted footsteps echo off the tile until a shaken Alliance Marine enters the chamber, followed behind Vega and Anderson.

"Admiral, what the hell are you doing?!" Admiral Forester exclaims. "This is a secure area, dismiss immediately."

"Sorry sir—ma'am, but we've just received word that Titan Station has been attacked," Vega dribbles out in one rush breath.

Shepard shoots up out his chair, "Reapers!" He mutters under his breath.

"Attacked?!" Admiral Black says. "By who?"

"The batarians?" Tyrell speculates.

"We don't know all the details yet," Anderson says. "But I've been informed that Admiral Hackett mobilized the Fifth Fleet to secure the moon—that's all we know so far."

"Alright, this briefing is dismissed," Black says. "Sergeant, escort the Commander to a secure location, everyone else report to the ARC immediately."

* * *

A/N_: Well that's a wrap, everyone. Man so what's the deal with Shepard huh? He already knew that the _Normandy _outbreak wasn't the only outbreak, but how? Why is he unwilling to tell Alliance Command and even Anderson the truth? Why did he tell Anderson he won't believe him if he told him? What is he hiding? What does he know? What happened in those three days in the Sowilo System? Why so many damn questions? Hmmmm… find out next update, maybe._

_P:S: Way back In chapter three, Shepard told Joker to plot a course for the Sowilo System, BEFORE the outbreak happened. So what was the deal behind that?_


End file.
